


Look at Me

by CluelessKitten



Series: It's Just The Beginning (This Isn't The End) [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days, Red Robin (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Depression, DysFUNctional families, Female Tim, Gen, Genderbend, Hiding in Plain Sight, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Noncon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Possible Future Relationship, Protective Jason, Stalking, Starvation, Timelines are confusing, a/b/o dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-01-29 07:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12626439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CluelessKitten/pseuds/CluelessKitten
Summary: Thea stares into the bathroom mirror and someone stares back.She's afraid it's herself.





	1. Red Robin

The first time Alathea hears her gender caste, it's her mother saying the words and holding her. They're awash in golden sunlight and the kind of haze that comes from the earliest sorts of memories, the ones that are more taste and sound and touch than remembering.

Mom tells her to hide it. Tells her she'll never be free if the world finds out, tells her about the bloody fights that can ensue, the  _lack of choice_  if her father's family ever gets word of anything.

Honestly, Alathea's still trying to wrap her head around the fact that her mother  _knows_  which means she didn't just hand her daughter over to a caretaker immediately after giving birth and going off with Dad somewhere. Somehow, the thought of Janet Drake, dominating Alpha of their family of three, actually being anything close to motherly is more mind-boggling than the idea that anyone would ever  _fight_  over  _her_.

"Promise me, Thea."

Perfectly manicured and coated nails dig into her skin but she doesn't dare squirm out of the firm grip she so rarely finds herself in. Janet's eyes are sharp, steel blue and Thea nods.

"I promise, Mama."

 

* * *

 

Her parents die.

The adoption papers ask if Alathea Drake has been informed of her caste by her mother – a fact only mothers  _can_  know, in those precious few seconds after birth – or if Bruce should brace himself for a surprise.

Thea ticks off the little box next to the 'B'.

 

* * *

 

 

Ra's finds out.

Ra's.

Not Bruce.

Not Dick.

Not Alfred.

Not Cass or Steph or Kon or Bart.

Fucking  _Ra's_.

But to be completely fair to her adoptive family, Thea had taken her mother's words to heart and made damn sure no one would  _ever_  realize her status. Omegas are fewer nowadays than they were then and even if hiding and keeping the family Omegas has – mostly – gone out of style and been made  _illegal_ , there are exceptions.

She has a feeling Ra's might be one of those exceptions.

It's not fair. She's been  _careful_. She'd lied to Batman's  _face_  about her caste just so he'd let her be Robin. And after, the suits had come with built-in suppressors for the inevitable day the pheromones finally started taking their effect. She's taken her discreetly-bought pills disguised as vitamins to keep the heats away, ensured that her suits' suppressors never  _ever_  stop working so the scent will never escape into the air, pulled her best acting skills to come off as a believable Beta and it all falls to shit because of  _this_.

Because of–

She sees Owens' face, behind her eyelids. Z. Pru.

They … weren't  _friends_. But they'd been good company, the handful of days they had together. A good team.

When she finally has the strength to look Ra's in the eye, she can't find the energy to glare like she'd planned. It just … doesn't seem worth it. And it's a little difficult now, to look so antagonistically at a man who holds nothing but pity in his eyes.

"Oh, my dear," he murmurs, bending low over where she lies on the mattress, swaddled in rich cloths. "You'd started to bond with them, didn't you?"

Thea turns away, closes her eyes again.

The sun is too bright.

 

* * *

 

Pru is alive. Thea lost her spleen. But Pru is alive.

Something inside her wants to cry; the rest of her has already run out of tears. Thea settles for a small nod towards the familiar assassin before turning her attention to Ra's new leverage.

Her name is Tam Fox.

 

* * *

 

Thea knows what's happening. All Omegas need a familial connection. They need that sense of belonging, of place, and her life has not been conducive to such a need. The bonds she's made of those nature have been tentative at best, biological at its most passive, and at its worst points, broken.

Kon's resurrection should have done something for her: his faith in her theory certainly had. But when they'd sat together back then, in the sewer, something inside Thea had ached.

_Loss_.

Not the fresh kind, not the one that came with grief and rage and disbelief, but something is gone from Thea. It had disappeared when Kon died, when … everyone, it seemed like, had gone away. When Dick had suggested, blatantly, if they should get her a therapist.

When no one had believed her. Wanted her. Supported her.

Something had gone, chipped or ripped or simply passed away into the night and it wasn't until she sat with Kon in a rare moment of peace that she felt its loss.

She feels it now, as she  _tries_. She tries to build a relationship with Tam, even though she gets the tingling feeling that Tam doesn't really see  _her_. She stays on amiable terms with Pru. And despite everything, she goes back to the Manor.

Everything feels wrong.

She thought it would change once she got actual proof of Bruce. She thought things would be better when they get him back. And it is, for a while.

But Thea is still Red Robin. She still doesn't have her spleen back. The months of questionable activity and the scars they left behind have left marks in places no one sees, in the places that  _matter_ , and to be honest, Thea's not even sure if she can  _be_  Robin anymore.

So, she leaves. She can – she's an emancipated minor, two years away from her legal majority, a major shareholder in Wayne Enterprises, and if she wants to live away from her adoptive family, she very well can.

"You don't need to leave," Dick stresses. His face is pinched with concern and she's touched. Really, she is.

It's getting hard to hide her caste from everyone. Aside from Alfred, the Wayne household has a common theme: they're Alphas. Bruce is an Alpha, Dick is an Alpha, Jason is a crazy Alpha, and even if Damian hasn't presented yet, Thea doubts Talia –  _another_  Alpha – would have allowed her baby to be anything else.

Thea leans on her crutches, smiles reassuringly at the man who shaped her life so much. Who still holds so much sway over her.

"I've changed, Dick," she says, carefully. "A lot of things happened when I went away. I'm – we're both different now and I need my own space."

A disbelieving snort. "And the Manor doesn't have that?"

"It's full of ghosts. There's too much history in it. I need someplace new. Someplace  _else_. My own."

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. "You're on crutches and you're moving out," he says with a shake of his head. "You'll call?"

She wonders what he'd be saying if he knew about her spleen. Probably nothing. It's not as if it's something debilitating. Best not to dwell on it. If he knew her  _caste_ , he'd probably lock her up in her room and board the windows.

…No. He's not Ra's.  _That_  had probably been one of the most terrifying moments in her life.

Thea nods. "As soon as I get settled in."

He hugs her. And she doesn't want him to let her go, never wants to lose this faint connection between them, but Janet's words echo through her mind more than a decade after the fact, sees the nauseously possessive gleam in Ra's eyes.

She lets go. Because his grip is too tight, because there isn't enough air in her lungs, because there are a hundred different things she needs but can't be given and she's getting tired of pretending.

Hah. A pretender. Jason would appreciate the joke.

Thea drives back to the newly-renovated, now-livable theater and wonders if she'll ever call it home.

 

* * *

 

Only Omega women can give birth.

…That's inaccurate. Only Omega women can be impregnated by traditional means. Everyone else needs to be artificially inseminated and an incubator for the fetus to grow in.

Personally, Thea prefers the incubator. Giving birth sounds like a pain in the ass. And dangerous.

But only Omega women can form the kind of bonds with her pack that binds them together. Children and spouses have an undeniable attachment that weathers even the worst circumstances. Parents –  _usually_  – dote on their Omega child, knowing they'll lose her to another family when she grows up. Siblings are more complicated to speak for, but Omegas often have good relationships with them as well.

Betas can form tentative bonds, and they can calm down a wild Alpha well enough – they don't have  _heats_ , the lucky bastards – and all in all, seem to be a better option. Safer. Freer.

That's all the matters in the end, isn't it?

It's easier not to take care of yourself when you're the only to remind yourself about it. Thea sets up alarms to remind her that, yes, regular mealtimes are a thing. So is sleeping a few hours at night. But she's maintaining two lives and all the work that comes with both and eventually, she disables the alarms.

Surprisingly, there are upsides.

Apparently, there's a body weight in which heats take one look at and run screaming away from. The pills also become poisonous at this point and although there's a small risk if she gains weight, Thea forces herself to put down the bottle. The last thing she needs is a trip to the hospital and a news agency reporting that one of the Wayne adoptees has flowered into an Omega caste.

She'd never hear the end of it.

Scent glands also stop working after enough weight loss. It's more significant than losing heat because while the former is reproductive, the latter is a constant state. It's a few weeks before the hormones screaming out starvation and stress and exhaustion disappear and she makes sure to be scarce and keep the suit on at all times to keep anyone from finding out, but afterwards. Afterwards, she's free.

Just like a Beta.

Alathea Drake smiles in the mirror. It's piercing, ice cold. Beautiful, just like her mother was. Manipulative. Playful, like Bruce. Young and bright, like Thea Drake-Wayne.

Alathea Drake is a Beta who might as well be an Alpha, for all that she's aggressive and territorial about her company. Alathea Drake might have been taken in by Bruce Wayne, but she's  _Janet's_  daughter and being young and new to the business world doesn't mean a thing. Alathea Drake is responsible and one day, she's going to have a lot of people falling over themselves to propose to her.

(And Thea, she curls up beneath the armor and hides.)

 

* * *

 

Damian cuts her lines.

Damian is angry about the hit list.

Damian has been raised as an assassin,  _wanted_  to be an assassin,  _actually tried_  to kill Thea. Not even that long ago, when she stops to think about the amount of time that's passed during the insanity that makes up their lives. Not long at all.

He is also hurt that she sees him as a possible threat.

And, as is his habit now, Dick sides with him.

Oh.

Alright.

Never mind that being angry doesn't justify his antics. Being angry is  _fine_. How the brat reacted was  _not_.

If not for the gloves, Thea's nails would be cutting into the palm of her hand. It's a tell, an obvious one, but she leaves it be and wonders if Dick even sees it. Sees  _her_. Does he ever really look at her anymore? Look at her and see?

She wonders.

 

* * *

 

(She wakes up in a bed, chained to the frame.

Ra's wants an heir.

Afterwards, when she's safe, when she's alone, Thea screams in the bathtub until her throat bleeds.)

 

* * *

 

 

Thea stares into the bathroom mirror and someone stares back.

She's afraid it's herself.

The young woman looking back at her, naked as the day she was born, is not confident, is not cutting or quick-witted or even well-rested. She is gaunt. Her cheeks have lost their baby fat too early and too fast, dark bags weigh heavily under bloodshot eyes. There are scars and bandages, bruises that mar her skin. She's small with skin draped over hard-earned muscle and not much else. Her ribs stick out prominently enough that she can count them.

She looks hollowed out.

She  _feels_  hollowed out.

Thea puts on a suit and applies makeup that makes her look (alive) reasonably healthy. There is no energy today for Alathea Drake or Thea Drake-Wayne. This is fine.

( _Where do you see yourself in ten years?_ )

It's fine.

It's fine.

It's fine.


	2. Daughter

For one long, terribly beautiful moment, Thea believes the Joker found Dana. She stares at the two bodies across Jason and her, the Joker's proclamations ringing in their ears: Jason's father and her step-mother.

Alive. Dana … is alive? All this time?

The Joker's words almost don't register in her ears until it's too late and then she's defending herself against the Red Hood because, well, he's got father issues she won't look too deeply into. But she does spare a glance back who's supposed to be Dana, trying parse if she is, if she isn't–

There's a deep, age-old mark on the body's wrist.

Thea breathes out. Relief rushes through her even as her heart breaks. She makes up for it by punching Hood in the throat.

It's not her. It's not them.

And she shouts, "Hood!  _Now_!"

 

* * *

 

There are people who make Thea wish she could kill them. There are people who make Batman's code tighten around her neck like a dog collar. There are people who make her stare in amazement at their repertoire of skills, at the things that can come so  _naturally_  to them, and think: "All you want to do is kill?"

To date, Ra's al Ghul is the only person who's actually made her say it out loud.

Thea looks down, dressed in her now-wrinkled office wear, and sighs.

Innocently, at the foot of her door, lies … a pink carnation.

She blinks at them. Either Ra's' memory is starting to go or he's been badly misinformed.

…Or he knows something she doesn't.

It's been a long month, a tiring month spent in paranoia of the Joker's antics but the very thought of  _that_  possibility, as ridiculous as it is, sends adrenaline searing into her veins. It's completely impossible but the flower burns a heavy weight in Thea's pocket as she runs to the nearest pharmacy as soon as she throws her civvies on.

She hasn't even  _thought_  of anyone that way since–

No. She won't think about it because it's impossible and Ra's is a jackass and she's just going to check if–

If.

Just if.

Thea pays in cash, doesn't want to leave a credit trail for something small and unbelievably noticeable like a pregnancy test.

She doesn't sleep that night. Her foot taps an incessant rhythm against the wood bedframe, her arms crossed, eyes on the ceiling. Her hand clutches at her earlier purchase, still in the box, as she waits for morning to arrive.

As soon as the sky begins changing shades for reasons other than the city lights, she shoves herself off the bed and starts the little process. Keeps time with the wall clock and its steady, reassuring ticks and tocks.

It's the longest two minutes of her life.

Crossing her fingers, hoping, praying, she takes the little stick and–

 _Negative_.

Oh, thank God.

Thea slides down the bathroom tiles. There is relief. There is…

Loss.

She's not even eighteen, not married, but she's an Omega without a support system and…

Thea blinks away the tears.

Fear, fear, fear, fear,  _fear_. The Joker lost and she's still afraid. And looking back on it now, maybe it wasn't Ra's who lay the flower on her doorstep after all. The Joker had gotten to all of their pasts…

And he holds nothing sacred.

She holds the little flower in the palm of her hand. A carnation – love to newborn babies, something given in a couple's first wedded year. Pink carnations – unforgettable love. A Mother's Day flower, nowadays.

It's a dangerous thought but she thinks of it, of a baby. With blue eyes and black hair. A sweet-faced child.

Her heart aches.

How stupid.

They'd tried to tell Bruce about the danger of the Joker possibly knowing their identities. But he'd shut them down, insisted that the madman didn't care about it. Except that wasn't the  _point_. It doesn't matter if the Joker doesn't care about their identities, what matters is that he  _knows_. What matters is that he's the scum of the earth and he'd  _use_  that knowledge if any of it pertains to any of his schemes.

Like now.

She wipes her palm down her face, squeezes her eyes shut against the glare of the bathroom lights. Remembers the rough bandages wrapped around her face before it fell away and they were all sprayed with gas again. Did she imagine Babs stabbing Dick in the shoulder? Everything in those precious few minutes feels so fuzzy her memory reliability is a bit fifty-fifty at this point.

Would any of it have happened if he'd just listened?

Thea doesn't want to think like this.

So she doesn't. She throws the pregnancy test into the wastebasket and walks into the shower stall with all her clothes still on, stands under the hot spray. The room fills with steam and every breath of it thaws the ice in Thea's chest.

She's alive. She survived.

This is supposed to be a good thing.

(Thea burns the flower and imagines the disappointment turning into ash along with it.)

 

* * *

 

Everyone had gotten a little alone time with the Joker. And while each encounter had undoubtedly been absolutely terrifying in their own personal ways, even if no one had recounted the experience to Thea, hers did, in hindsight, come with some sort of relief.

He had called her a boring little Beta.

Even after everything he'd found out about them… He doesn't know, he didn't find Dana – maybe she's dead, maybe she's not but he didn't find her or her corpse and that's something, too – he  _doesn't know everything_.

It's comforting, in a way.

And maybe it was petty, deciding not to go to the meeting Bruce requested everyone have at the Manor. But she remembers seeing what she thought was her  _face_  on a platter and–

She can't forgive him. Not today or this week.

Maybe not for a long time.

 

* * *

 

Family doesn't always mean home.

It's something Thea's always known, but it wasn't until Cass put the complicated feelings and history into those simple words that she realized it. It echoes now, every time she decides not to turn the comm on, whenever she tells Alfred that she's too busy, promising to visit the Manor some other day. Alfred doesn't deserve it, but … it gets too difficult, sometimes.

Sometimes, Thea wonders whether she's ever really had a home. What it might feel like, compared to the places she's lived.

She shouldn't dwell on it. So she buries herself in work. Not her night job, but … Wayne Enterprises. It's good, it's clean, it's incredibly frustrating but she can come back to the Theater at some early hour of the morning and just crash on the bed without some deep-seated guilt over something or other.

It's easy. A reprieve.

She still can't sleep properly.

 

* * *

 

Thea looks for Dana. Because her stepmom had loved Dad and, well, maybe she's alive. They'd all given her up for dead after searching for so long without any luck, but Thea needs – she needs confirmation. She needs to  _know_.

Thea tosses the duffel bag into the car's passenger side. A few spare changes of clothes and her Red Robin outfit were packed while her electronics were secured in a backpack. It's all she needs, all she needed the first time she did this.

At least she didn't storm out of the Manor this time. Bruce might have been skeptical when she first came to him with the idea, and maybe he had recognized that she wasn't asking for permission but he'd nodded and said he'd make appearances at Wayne Enterprises while she's away.

Good. Thea's put too much work into the office to have it all burn to the ground because of some clumsy stand-in. Bruce might try to keep up the appearance of a ditzy socialite, but he'd never take the act so far that he'll mismanage his company.

No, it was fucking  _Elliot_  who almost burned everything to the ground.

Deep breaths, Thea. It's over. Elliot is no longer in charge of the company. No one is misusing the funds  _or_  about to give it all to Ra's. Dick has promised to go through her usual patrol routes from time to time.

Everything will be  _fine_.

So, Thea turns on the engine of the small, secondhand Honda and drives.


	3. Daughter (Part II)

_How'd you know? How did you know I'd be there to save you?_

 

* * *

* * *

 

 _Not a bad day_.

Thea jolts awake on the motel bed, still feeling the wind rushing up, up, past her. Ra's had shoved her hard enough to break through bulletproof glass and she would be feeling it later when Dick took her to the Cave – when she wasn't immediately about to  _die_  – but right then, she hadn't felt anything. Just air. Gravity.

Relief. And something like satisfaction, at knowing she was right, at knowing finally, for sure, that Bruce was still alive.

She wonders if he's proud of her now.

Thea sits up, brushes her hair back. It's getting longer now, going well past her shoulders. It's a hassle, considering Red Robin's cowl, but it's not too bad and she doesn't have the time to spare to go to a salon.

Maybe she can cut it herself…?

Thoughts for another time. Thea reaches towards the empty space on the mattress and opens her laptop.

She has a stepmother to find.

 

* * *

 

 

Dana, like Thea's father, was a Beta. She was a kind woman and she tried for Thea, even when it couldn't have been easy. It's something she regrets, that wasted time, the effort. Little regrets.

Jack and Janet. Dana. Bruce. She's had four parents now, but it's an odd thing to think of, that she's never really been anyone's daughter. Her childhood is the echoes of long hallways, time spent figuring things out on her own, and a string of caretakers. It was dodging authority to follow crimefighters, figuring out the best angles for light, how to make the most of each shot. It was trailing after shadows of people who never looked behind, never looked down to the pitter-patter of small feet following close by.

But Dana.

Well.

Alathea drives down the congested highway and thinks of family and how all it's ever meant is the silence. She rolls her eyes as a fellow driver flips her off, lets the sound of angry people behind the wheel fade into the background.

She wonders if Ra's still keeps close tabs on her. After the failed … impregnation, he'd lost most of his interest towards her. Not enough to lose the title of 'Detective' but enough that he no longer actively seeks her out. Weighing too little for heats also apparently affected whether or not her body could properly develop a fertilized egg.

She does have the odd suspicion, though…

Thea shakes her head. It's a worthless line of thought. Even if Ra's attempt had, to some degree, work even if it had failed to carry though the required processes for development, she isn't pregnant and this isn't something she should think about.

Dead or alive, Dana is out there, somewhere. And if Thea could find someone lost in time, then she can find Jack Drake's second wife.

No matter how long it takes.

 

* * *

 

It's a little awkward, when the moment comes. Thea's mouth is dry and her feet shuffle. It's been so long since so many of her tells have shown but she'll make the exception this once.

Bruce would understand.

"Hey, Dana," Thea finally manages, and winces. "Sorry. Um, hello. Dana. It's me, Thea. Your stepdaughter? You probably don't recognize me; it's been so long. You were written off as dead and I haven't gotten the courage to… Well. You made Dad really happy, you know?"

Thea lays the flowers down on the damp earth and gently shoos the fall leaves off the gravestone.

"I'm out on my own now, Dana," she says. Fights the wobble in her voice, the hitch in her chest. "I'm making a name for myself now, in my night job. I'm pretty good at it, too, and in the day, I pretty much run Bruce's company half the time. Usually. Not right now, I took some time off to look for you."

It's a chilly day and she shoves her now-free hands deep into her coat pockets. Her body isn't good at keeping warm anymore: one of the downsides of being too underweight.

"I'm glad I did," Thea confesses quietly, into her scarf. "It's good to know, you know? Never wondering anymore…"

She sighs. This … could have gone better. But she's done her best and the unmarked cross stands before her, the grave of a Jane Doe. She'll have a better one made, now that she knows it's Dana's and she says so. But it's all empty air, little things for the living mourning their dead.

"Was I your daughter?" she asks the hard stone, almost desperately. But it is cold and silent and offers her no answers.

"I hope." She hesitates. "I hope you and Dad are still happy – wherever you are."

It's been a long day. The weight of it bears down on her shoulders as she turns towards the cemetery's exit, to where she parked her car. She's rented a room at a hotel nearby, just for the night, but … she thinks she'll stay. At least for a little while. Dana's been buried in a decent area, at least, one with enough clear air to see the stars at night, and Thea.

Thea would like to stay with her stepmother a little while longer.

 

* * *

 

 

_R u ok?_

The text message comes in at two in the morning on the phone she keeps for her more private contacts. It's been a while since Dick's contacted her, a while since they've had a real conversation. It's hard to know where Thea stands among her adoptive family nowadays – and sometimes, she's not so sure whether the adoption really counts anymore: she's moved out, claimed emancipation as a minor, and it's been months since she's answered to any of them. At this point, the adoption papers are just … a thing of the past, something she and Bruce had agreed to, so she could continue under his tutelage.

That's probably all it ever was.

They don't need her anymore and Thea doesn't need them. If her time searching for Bruce taught her anything, it's that.

She'll come back, though. Someday, if she has to. If something happens, if there's a situation, she'll go. Thea will never be so distant that she'd ignore a distress signal. But for now … for now, she looks out the hotel window. Watches the slow dawn and the trees in the horizon.

Thea doesn't reply. For now.

 

* * *

* * *

 

_You're my brother, Dick. You'll always be there to save me._


	4. A Scattered Nest (Bruce)

Bruce never wanted another child. Not after Jason.

Not in the way that it just hadn't occurred to him to take in another orphan after Dick left. After Jason, the thought of children hurt. The thought of losing children burned.

Jason's absence tore holes in his life. It showed every day: laughter that no longer echoed in the hallways, the empty place at the breakfast table, the scent that faded more and more every passing day. Bruce and Alfred stopped smiling. The Manor turned into a mausoleum.

Enter Alathea Drake.

Technically, Bruce had always known about Alathea. He knew about the Drakes, after all, was aware of Drake Industries and he'd invited the somewhat flighty couple to a few galas and parties before. He had been aware that they had a daughter. At the time, he hadn't connected the fact to the concern that they were hardly ever in the country for more than a few weeks at a time. He hadn't considered at the time that they were either constantly dragging their child off around the globe or forever leaving her behind. Maybe he hadn't thought the latter could be possible.

But it's Thea's hand that reaches out, reaches down the pit he'd fallen into and settled into. It was her fragile hand that he took and grudgingly allowed to drag him out. It was those hands that he trained how to fight, how to harm. How to disarm a bomb, to fix an engine, to strike fast and strike hard.

She became Robin.

It wasn't the same. It wasn't an adoption or wardship: it was a contract. It was a partnership with clear rules and regulations and Alathea Drake went home after patrol each ungodly early morning and that was it.

But then, he did adopt her. He held her when he found her weeping over her father's corpse, finalized the funeral arrangements. Officially welcomed her into his home.

Bruce isn't sure when it stopped being an arrangement. When grudging approval turned into fondness into something paternal. When she became his daughter.

He brushes back a stray wisp of hair and tucks it away from her face. She lies now, bandaged and asleep, on one of the medical tables in the Cave. It's been a rough night for everyone and Bruce stands with the majority of his weight on one foot.

Swiftly, he bends down and presses his lips to her forehead. Breathes in the scent that has become a staple in his home and a comfort his mind seeks. She's kept her sweet child's scent longer than his boys did and he's glad for it.

He'll miss it when it's gone.

 

* * *

 

Bruce doesn't know how to handle Damian. And when he cradles Thea's broken body close, he doesn't think he even wants to keep Damian.

But he does. He takes the wild, angry, indoctrinated boy in and does his best.

(It's not enough. It never feels like enough, no matter what he does or says.)

He juggles himself between Bruce Wayne and Batman and two children who both desperately need him. Damian needs a moral foundation; Thea has just lost… Almost everything, really. Her world has been uprooted and the only things she really has left are Bruce, Dick, and Alfred. Thea's best friends are dead, she's quit the Titans, Jack Drake has been murdered and if she has any distant relatives, none of them want her.

All she has are them.

(A part of him feels it's better this way but this is selfishness and he steps on the sentiment with a steel-toed boot.)

Damian, on the other hand, needs a father and a moral guide. He wants Bruce's legacy – although how that translates in his mind, Bruce isn't too sure – and he seems to have decided that Thea is his rival in obtaining it.

"I don't seem to have a lot of luck with adopted brothers," Thea muses one Saturday morning after one of her and Damian's verbal spats. Something about cereal this time.

Bruce almost protests, about to cite her relationship with Dick as a complete contradiction to the statement, when he remembers Jason who's repeatedly derided and attempted to murder her.

"I'll talk to him again," he says quietly before going back to the newspaper.

He doesn't hear her leave the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Bruce goes away.

Bruce comes back.

Except coming back doesn't mean coming home like he thought it would be. Coming back is more like arriving in an alternate universe that's exactly the same except for how it's not. Dick is Batman, Damian has somehow become Robin, Jason is still nursing a grudge from the fall off an apparent power trip he had going for a while and Cassandra is in Hong Kong. One of Bruce's contingencies was put in place, effectively putting Wayne Industries in Thea's hands.

Thea, who no longer lives in the Manor.

Who operates within Gotham but of sight of everyone else, whenever she can help it.

Who no longer speaks to Dick outside of work, who distrusts Steph, who went under the grid for several months while looking for Bruce. No one knows exactly what she did then, where she went. There is no report on that time of her life and she is pointedly absent as Nightwing gives Batman the rundown on current events.

"So, Thea took on Red Robin to search for me," Bruce says slowly, carefully, to Dick, "And left the position to Damian?"

Dick won't look him in the eye. "Not … exactly."

And Bruce, he glares at Dick. The puzzle pieces are falling into place and he dislikes what they say. About what happened, about how things are now.

" _Explain_."

 

* * *

 

 

When Red Robin almost kills Jack Harkness,  _plans_  for it, Bruce stays in the shadows and watches, the way he taught her a long time ago. (The way that apparently let a little girl follow him all around Gotham without his notice for several years.)

He can't smell his daughter's scent anymore. Is it the wind? The distance? Or is it that he can't recognize it anymore?

How many things did Bruce lose while he was lost in time?

 

* * *

 

 

_Bruce. Something came up. Sorry, I won't be able to make it today._

(What did the Joker tell you? What did he do to you? Do you hate me?)

 

* * *

 

 

(Please come home.)

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm going to look for Dana."

Bruce nods. His body is numb, the hope that sparked when he first saw her standing in the Cave fizzling away.

(Why can't I be enough for you?)

 

* * *

 

 

A parent should never outlive his children.

Bruce stands over Damian's grave, with its inscription, its freshly dug earth. He was … he was just getting used to his son, finally starting to establish firmer grounds with him. Damian has been calmer, more attentive. He's come a long way, growing into himself, exploring things outside of the life.

He is – was – _is_ –

"Bruce," Thea murmurs, her eyes large and sad. "I'm so sorry."

And Bruce swallows around the lump in his throat. Says, gruffly, "It wasn't your fault."

His arm wraps around her tight, pulling her smaller, slighter body close to his. Her heart beats warm blood through her veins and he takes comfort in the fact. He breathes in her scent – it's fainter now, mild, almost nonexistent since he's returned, and the updated family files claim that her caste did present while he was lost.

Bruce presses his face into her hair and breathes in deep. Her scent … rankles.

He wishes she could have stayed a child forever.

"Alfred's kept your bedroom clean for you, if you ever want to come back," he mutters, voice muffled against her head. He's not sure what he should say, what reason to give for the offer. He doesn't know his own daughter anymore, can't quite reconcile his image of that baby-faced child with the tired young woman standing by his side. But he doesn't want to take his eyes off her, not for one second. It's too … fast. Everything moves too fast.

(Elsewhere, Dick sobs freely the way only he can seem to, in this family. He was … more of a father figure than Bruce ever managed to be. And he grieves like a father should, the way Bruce wishes he can.)

Officially, Bruce Wayne has four children. Half of which have died.

But one of them came back. Jason came back. Not the same, but–

Death isn't the end. It's not the final destination – far from it.

Bruce squeezes Thea to his side, as if crushing her to his body will meld her to him. He is their guardian, their leader, protector, parent. But he fails and he fails and he  _fails_.

Not this time.

He'll make them whole again. He'll bring Damian home. He'll bring his family home, together in the way they never were. He will. He's supposed to be their father, supposed to be the figure in their lives they can rely on, the one that holds them together. He's already missed so much, too much, of their lives.

He'll bring Damian back, whole and alive and his youngest son. They'll be a family this time, a real family, under one roof.

And none of them will ever leave him again.

(The thought of losing children burns.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is ... not okay.


	5. Elegy for a Child

Damian dies.

It's sudden, it's quick. It's the only mercy in dying afraid, dying knowing that it's your mother's monster killing you.

(She wonders if Talia cares. If she cried when her son was murdered by something she had created with her hands instead of her heart. She wonders if the woman still calls herself his mother.

She doesn't deserve it.)

Bruce's arm is tight around Thea for almost the entirety of the funeral. She's compliant, for the most part, happy to give her silent support. Her father's death still cuts deep – they'd just been starting to build something better between themselves – and she wonders how much worse it is, losing a child. Is it different from losing a parent? Or the same? Can the pain even be measured or compared?

She wonders.

For a long minute, after the funeral procession, Bruce buries his face in her hair and just  _breathes_.

(The only other time he's touched her this much was when he tried to shield her from the sight of Jack Drake's bloody corpse.)

She knows what he's looking for. And for once, she's regretful to say that she can't give it to him.

 

* * *

 

 

"It's only the stitches; I'll put him back together again," Batman says as if that makes everything alright. And he  _smiles_  at her like he believes it.

Thea doesn't care to remember his face when she has the facility shot at, just enough to destroy anything usable. But he was terrifying, trying to drag her away, shouting, angry. She's not sure how she managed to fight him off, or if it was something she said, but eventually he let go.

(There will be bruises on her arms tomorrow.)

She stays behind, after, stitches Frankenstein together again like the time one of her dolls accidentally ripped at the arm. Slow, gentle pulls of cord and needle. Thea can't afford the time, she knows this, but she does it anyway.

Frankenstein watches her with guarded eyes as he submits to the deliberate care. She ... can't really blame him.

"Batman doesn't grieve well," she says. It's the only thing she can find in herself to say and she hates how it sounds like an excuse. Because this is history all over again and it's well past the time for excuses.

"He will curse his child with life if he succeeds."

Thea nods, knots off the cord – a special type, one that can properly hold him together despite his movements – and stands. It's the next best thing to an apology at this point. She hopes it's enough.

"This life is eating your soul."

Well, isn't that encouraging?

She smiles at him, best as she can, and pats his arm because hey, why not? "Sounds like a good price for saving the world."

He shakes his head.

Gingerly, Thea feels her wrists through the armor, where Batman gripped her tight and tried to drag her and she'd fought and shouted, remembered a manacle on the exact same place he was holding her. She winces at the ache.

Looks like Alfred's just gonna have to call in some better backup.

 

* * *

 

 

It's not like Damian's death suddenly made Thea like him.

She just doesn't think she ever really hated him at all.

It was easier, when he was alive, not to think about him. And when she did, it was mostly in a defensive fashion as she parried his physical and verbal attacks. There wasn't any opportunity for fondness to grow but she'd respected him. His skill.

She looks down at the photograph. It's one of the few she has of Damian, from the handful of weeks she'd gone back to the Manor. He's sitting on the couch reading a book with Titus on his lap.

So normal.

Her thumb brushes against his child's face.

Could Thea have done better? If she had tried like Dick when she came back that handful of weeks after Bruce officially came back, could they have reconciled?

(Maybe. If she'd put a better code on the fucking list.)

She slips the photograph into a glass frame and closes the back. Sits back on her armchair, listens to the ticking of the clock.

Exhales.

"Damian."

In another world, maybe Damian could have been hers, in much the same way he was Dick's. Omegas can form easy bonds with children and she'd be lying to herself if she says she never felt that pull towards him, that call to make a connection with the youngest in their odd family. And sometimes she thinks that maybe –  _maybe_  – part of the reason he hated her so much was because he felt that inexplicable pull as well.

In any case, they'd both rejected it.

But maybe if she hadn't been the current Robin at the time, or if she'd left on better terms or if–

If, if, if, if, if.

The world is filled and haunted by the word.

But damn it,  _what if_?

What if?

 

* * *

 

 

It's Dick who finally finds a way through to Bruce.

Thea sits back on her couch, an arm resting over her closed eyes, as she listens to the voice message. It's from Alfred. He sounds grave but … relieved.

She smiles.

It's hard not to feel a little bitter. She can have that, right? A little envy for the things she can't have. It's healthy. Normal. Human.

"–And if you find ever yourself in Gotham again, it would be a delight to have you at the Manor."

She breathes a soft sigh. It echoes. There's almost a pleading note in his voice and it hurts that she's made him sound like that. He's already grieving one lost child. But she remembers Frankenstein's lab and her hands shake and she just can't. Not now.

(His arm had been an anchor around her shoulders during the funeral, a steadying presence. She'd thought–)

"Sorry, Alfred." She bites her lip, squeezes her eyes closed. "Gotta rain check."

She's not strong enough to play family for them anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

A pink carnation sits on the window sill of her eighth floor studio apartment in New York when she wakes up on her desk chair.

Thea blinks.

None of her alarms were triggered. The cameras hold nothing when she checks.

It takes longer than she'll confess before she gathers the courage to open up the window and take the small flower. She examines it in the palm of her hand, traces its soft petals with her fingers. It's … pretty, as flowers go. Thea can admit to that much.

It's not the Joker. Not Ra's, either, because Ra's would have done something more blatant by now.

"Who are you?" she asks because even if she's never found any bugs, it doesn't mean they're not there. "And why pink carnations?"

She sniffs it gently, and it smells like … well. It smells like a flower. And something that makes her heart ache.

Curious.

She runs it through a tox screen but everything comes up negative. Nothing poisonous or off about it.

Thea twirls the flower between her fingers. "I'm gonna catch you someday if this keeps up, you know that, right?"

The wind brushes past her cheeks, cool and soft fingers in the evening air.

Thea closes her eyes and pretends it's her mother.


	6. Crumbling Pillars

_I'm proud of you._

* * *

* * *

 

One choice.

 _I worry about you, Thea_.

In all the hundreds of every day decisions, no one ever knows which one will be  _that_   _one_.

 _Maybe it'd be better if you stayed in tonight_.

It was a cool night when it came to Thea.

_Don't you think it's a little late for that?_

Jack Drake died because of a madwoman's miscalculation. Thea's father died because Robin forgot that there were things that didn't last forever.

_Dad, this isn't some African safari! Get out of there!_

Thea forgot.

And like on another one of his many, many business trips, Jack Drake went away.

(She's still waiting for him to come back.)

* * *

 

Out of everyone who could have had the sheer audacity and general  _fuck all_ to crawl out of a grave, Thea isn't particularly sure why it had to be Jason. If the afterlife had had a cage match to decide who could make an epic comeback, she's fairly certain that Janet Drake could have clawed Jason's eyes out and trod on him while wearing high heels, with a relative amount of ease.

Janet Drake was a force of nature. She moved in ways that only she really understood and let everyone else choose to either leave or build appropriate defenses. She was the deep ocean, the unforgiving current that swept witless creatures away into the darkness.

(Thea's still unsure if her extended relatives really hated Janet or feared her. Or both.

Both is likely.)

Janet loved her family, as much as she could, in all the ways she knew how. And her family was Thea.

Most mothers would proudly announce their daughter's Omega caste. Most mothers would dote on and fuss over their child who will one day be claimed, irrevocably, by another. Most mothers make  _plans_.

Janet hid Thea in their home and kept Jack away because relatives on both sides of their family are hawks and vultures and she refused to subject her child to such scrutiny. Janet brought home trinkets and books because this is her love and she would bring Thea along instead of Jack if only the child wasn't so  _fragile_. Janet's plan consisted of  _freedom_  and  _independence_  that society – not matter how progressive – will strip away from Thea once it realizes her caste.

But the truth always comes out. Janet's only hope was that Thea will be strong when the day comes, that she will stand firm and tall and every bit as graceful and brilliant as Janet knew her baby could be.

And Janet? She would be there, every step of the way.

* * *

 

 _Batman and Robin, orphans_.

But there are differences. Thea has a secret to keep and a tenuous freedom that can be so easily taken away. Thea has been around her parents' love long enough to be poisoned and blessed by it. Long enough for statues to crumble, for the veil to be ripped off her childhood illusions. To wish that she had been born in another household, one without silent halls and hollow rooms, only discovering now that she'd give anything to get it all back.

(Be careful what you wish for.)

Thea doesn't talk to her parents' gravestones. They rarely talked to each other in life, what would she say now? But she stands in front of the two headstones until she cries and cries until she collapses on the dewy grass. And then she breathes and she sobs and it's ugly and real and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

During a training session, Bruce offers Thea a new arrangement.

It's called adoption.

"I'd very much like you to consider becoming my daughter," he says solemnly. A few feet away, Alfred stands with an unreadable expression.

The thought is daunting: Thea has only ever had to play the role of 'daughter' for several weeks in a year. But Bruce Wayne does not leave Gotham very often. What Thea knows of home is the empty hallways and a string of caretakers she gave up learning the names and faces of a long time ago. But Alfred is a constant in the Manor – a welcome constant, but a  _constant_  and that concept in itself is strange enough – and they will see each other every day. And then, there will be Dick. Dick, who is older, who is wiser, who has his own life and a somewhat active presence in hers. Active and involved, which is as thrilling as it is terrifying.

There are too many unknowns, too much unfamiliarity with the things Bruce is giving her and there is no father or mother to tell Thea what to do. No mother to hide her caste, no father to rein her in from letting Robin take over her life. She's alone now, with her secret, and very limited options.

A few weeks and a fake uncle later, Thea accepts Bruce's offer.

She hopes she doesn't regret it.


	7. Broken Pedestals

_This is what I become?_

* * *

* * *

 

It's dark. The wall clock metes out the passing seconds, minutes, hours, and the bottle in her hand steadily empties.

Dick is dead.

Thea wonders if he'll come back, like Connor, like Bart. She wonders if he'll crawl out of his grave, half-mad, frothing at the mouth, calling for blood.

It's happened before.

Her scars ache tonight. The hand not gripping the bottle rests over the surgical scar. Her lost spleen.

"I didn't realize."

Dick's voice echoes in the emptiness of her living room, in the hollow of her mind.

"I didn't know you were so alone."

She closes her eyes. The dead shouldn't speak.

His eyes – blue, such a warm blue – as he stands in the corner, are wide and sad. "I'm sorry I didn't notice."

Shut up.

"I'm so sorry."

" _Shut up_!"

The bottle shatters next to his head and she hates, hates,  _hates_  the way he flinches like he's real. Like he's alive. Like he gives a damn. Like she still means anything to him, still, and if her time searching for Bruce proved anything to Thea, it's that she–

She…

"Don't you dare apologize to me," she hisses. She's out of her chair, stalking towards his taller form. "Don't say you're fucking  _sorry_."

That's not what she needs, anymore.

"All I wanted was for everyone to be safe. And I managed that, didn't I? I brought Bruce back to all of you." She's yelling, she knows she is, yelling at the wall, at empty air but she can't  _stop_  and there are tears streaming down her face and– "Damn it, Dick, why couldn't you just be safe? Why'd you have to die?"

She sobs. Her knees give way and she collapses, holding herself.

The room feels cold.

* * *

 

(This happened once before, after Damian's funeral. When Thea broke down in front of his shrine and … and saw him. Talked with him. They'd even hugged.

That alone was enough to confirm that it was only an apparition. But she had been grateful for it, even asking for one more moment of pretend when Alfred found her alone, on her knees with tears streaming from her eyes as she held her arms out to the air. And then he was gone.

Dick doesn't stay, either.

No one ever stays.)

* * *

 

"My dear, this is getting ridiculous."

Thea glares at Ra's from where she's curled up on the bed. The sheets are fresh, replacing the ones that smelled like sweat and … other things.

She doesn't need to remember.

A tray of breakfast food sits on the nightstand, cold and still waiting to be eaten.

"It's not poisoned, I assure you."

"Fuck. You. Ra's," she growls through gritted teeth. The manacle around her ankle isn't designed to chafe but she's managed to score an impressive bruise from it anyway. The bedroom is ornate, extravagant, completely over the top.

She hates it.

(There are still fragments of mirror on the floor. Some of them are stained with blood.)

He raises a weathered eyebrow. "I believe we did quite a bit of that last night. Unless–"

He reaches for her. Too sharply, too fast.

(Thea wakes up with the taste of blood on her tongue and adrenaline in her veins. Thea is in her apartment in New York. Not … there.

She feels something soft in the palm of her hand.

It's a pink carnation.

Thea  _screams_.)

,

She doesn't sleep anymore.

(She's so tired.)

* * *

 

" _Hey, Thea. It's me, Dick. You haven't called home in a while and Alfred's starting to get worried. Leave us a message when you can, alright?"_

_*Beep*_

" _Thea, it's Dick. We're having a movie night on Thursday, and we were wondering if you'd like to come. You know you're welcome anytime, right? Bruce doesn't say much, but I know he misses you, and I promise Damian'll be civil this time."_

_*Beep*_

" _Hey, um, it's me again. I just wanted to call, make sure you're okay. No one's seen you in a while and I was wondering if you're … well… It's been hard on all of us, you know. I know you and Damian weren't close but Alfred told me about… yeah. You don't have hide away over there in New York, okay? You can stay here, patrol with Bruce and me, even just for a while. We miss you, Thea. We really do. Please, just … come home."_

_*Beep*_

* * *

 

Red Robin gets shot. It's been years since she's made the sort of rookie mistakes that can easily get her killed but she just can't … focus.

Thea falls on her knees on the rooftop. Down below, the thugs are knocked out and zip-tied, awaiting the local police.

The world spins and her head hurts. The coffee she drank earlier threatens to make a reappearance but she forces it back down. This is not the time for that.

She's bleeding. She's bleeding from her abdominal area and probably developing an infection right this moment because fuck the Council of Spiders.

Alright. Okay.  _Breathe_.

"You're not going to make it back to the safehouse. Not on your own."

Thea looks up sharply. Nightwing leans against the railing, all grace and danger even in her blurring vision.

(It probably helps that he's not really there.)

And Thea, she shakes her head stubbornly. It doesn't clear away the stars. "You don't understand, I've been doing this for months–"

"No,  _you_  don't understand." He's using Nightwing's voice now. He's angry, he's frustrated. "You fucked up, Thea. You fucked up and now your body's shutting down and no one is going to find you here until it's too late."

The edges of her vision are growing darker and darker. She feels the blood seeping through the bodysuit, through the armor. And it's usually not considered such a terrible wound in their line of business but fuck if she isn't compromised. Thea manages to lie herself down on her back, feels the chilly breeze brush past her face.

(It hurts.)

Somewhere far away, someone is shouting. Probably one of the thugs still half-conscious and resisting arrest.

"You're going to die here," he says, and he has the nerve to sound like his heart is breaking.

"See you on the other side," she whispers.

Through the darkness, she thinks she hears a voice.

Maybe she can finally apologize to ... everyone.

* * *

* * *

 

_Maybe I was better off dead._


	8. Broken Pedestals (Part II - Jason)

Bruce lied.

(But then again, Bruce always lies.)

The brat died, and Batman was falling apart. Almost tearing apart Gotham in his rage and something about that unnerved Jason. He hadn't actually spared that much thought to Bruce's immediate reaction to  _his_  death – for the longest time, as far as he was concerned, only the bottom line mattered, and that bottom line was that the Joker was still alive.

And then, Talia – psycho mother of the year – murdered her own son. Probably unintentionally, maybe, but it still fucking bit at him.

Mothers shouldn't kill their children. Just like how fathers shouldn't replace them.

 _A good soldier_.

Fucking hell, Batman.

But after so long, while watching Batman fall apart in the aftermath of Damian's death, Jason had been willing to  _try_. Jason had been willing to reach out and give the man a fucking chance because  _fuck_  was this what he went through when Jason died?

(Was this what Replacement saved him from?)

Why the hell would anyone want to become this Batman's Robin? Did Thea have a fucking death wish? If  _this_  Batman had come up to Jason when he jacked the tires off the car, he wouldn't have fucking had a meal with the man, much less agreed to be taken in by him. Because people with that crazy, haunted look in their eyes? People like that did crazy things.

…Which made for a very good question:  _why_  did Jason let Bruce talk him into anything? Why was Jason stupid enough to go with him on an aircraft to  _Ethiopia_? Was it the leftover sentiments from earlier years? Had the air filter in his helmet malfunctioned? It didn't matter – what mattered was that Jason  _tried_ , Bruce  _lied_ , and seriously?  _Fuck_  whoever said that everyone deserved a second chance.

Just.

Fuck them.

"I'm still standing."

And Jason just …  _looked_  at the man swaying on his feet. At the man who was his father-figure for less than a handful of years, but weren't those some of the best in his life? This man, who was looking to  _Jason_  for whatever punishment he felt he deserved now.

He turned away from Bruce. "I'm taking the car," he said, exposing his back because he knew,  _he knew_  that Batman would be too broken to attack now.

Jason paused. Said, "Goodbye, Bruce."

He was done.

* * *

 

Cities are, to some extent, all the same: They have their new buildings and their old ones; their business sectors and their suburban areas. There are parks and construction sites and fast food chains.

New York is a city like any other. Busy, with an active nightlife and grey morning skies.

Jason looks over his new place – a temporary one, even if it's a good apartment – and takes in a deep breath. Relatively, Gotham isn't too far away but this is a step. A good step, he'd like to think, to clearing his head. Figuring out his life. Away from Bruce and Batman and the Joker and Ethiopia and  _after_.

There are no boxes. Only a backpack and whatever else Jason could carry on his person and the bike. He'd safely hidden away his weapon caches and moved his things to other places in Gotham, places Bruce would have more difficulty finding without anyone to tail them to.

He's left behind strings. He knows this. Maybe one day, he'll tie them up; maybe one day, he'll follow them back. Jason doesn't know. He doesn't have to. And as he sets his things down on the sparse furniture left behind by previous tenants, he wonders if this is what it's like to be free.

* * *

 

Jason avoids the Replacement. There's really not much to say to her, and if there is, it's nothing pleasant. Besides, New York is a big city – if they don't want to cross paths, they don't need to.

But he sees her anyway, one morning. Exiting a building, looking like she'd just gone to hell and back. Jason knew how to spot the makeup they used to cover up bruises. He knew the way the working women held themselves, the way they looked at people. He remembered the way Catherine used to smile when she used to be well enough to go out, like she was the nebulous 'better' that she always apologized she never was for Jason.

That week, he followed Thea. And it was easy to do, now that he isn't bent on controlling the cartels and chasing criminals. Which is good, because his replacement? Is slippery like no one would believe. Jason easily loses her in crowds, even in their civilian identities, when the scent suppressors are off. Should be off. He's not really sure about a lot when it comes to her.

Jason isn't sure what he'll do in New York. Or what he's supposed to do. But the Replacement is sparking interest and she hasn't seemed to notice him – yet. At least, she hasn't indicated that she has, and wouldn't it be just like her to be a sneaky little brat? She did break him out of prison, not that she got anything out of it.

He doesn't like thinking how she's small enough, like a mini professional in her outfits, that it's actually rather tempting to just pocket her and take her back to the apartment. Because people aren't figurines but damn if she doesn't look like one.

Back when the Lazarus Pit's whispers were stronger, when the fog was heavier and he could only think about the now and the anger in his chest, he'd hated that about her. He'd hated that something so small could join up in Batman's crusade. He'd hated that someone who'd lived in luxury their entire life would be willing to throw everything away, and for what? He'd hated the betrayal in the eyes of someone he didn't know and who never knew him.

(And remembering that one moment, when the utter fear had bled through her voice, always nauseated Jason.)

He never hated himself more than when he was around Alathea.

But he watches her now, like some sort of demented guardian – which, actually, isn't too far off from what Batman is. Just with a narrower focus. One person, instead of an entire city to look after.

At least Jason knows how to set reasonable goals for himself.

* * *

 

Dick dies, and that's just… huh.

Jason and Dick were never really close – at the time Jason came into the family, Golden Boy was often at complete odds with Bruce. So, if Jason feels just a passing resentment at the man's murderers, if he doesn't really bother attending the funeral – not that he got invited or informed but he has his ways – who can blame him? He's sure Bruce will think  _some_ thing about his absence but that's neither here nor there.

Because honestly? Bruce and Alfred had been Jason's family, once. And even if, to them, both Jason and Dick had registered as part of their pack, Dick's scent had never really settled into Jason properly to recognize him as such.

There  _is_  loss, though. Of course. Death is a cut string that Jason will never be able to go back to. So, on the week after the funeral, the Red Hood stays over in Gotham and turns the streets red.

He stops by the cemetery once. Lays a gloved palm on the cold stone. His helmet tucked at his arm.

"Say hello to Damian for me, hmm?"

And Jason bows his head ever-so-slightly, and breathes a prayer.

* * *

 

Alathea's looking worse for wear every single day. It's getting to the point that the makeup and clothes don't even cut it anymore. The kid looks like a fucking zombie.

And he  _still_  can't get a handle on her scent.

He might remember a girl who used to live across the hall from him when he was young. All skin and bone. Jason found her collapsed at the stairs one day, barely breathing, with blood trickling out the side of her mouth. It was the first time he called 911, and the last time he ever saw her.

Jason remembers the faint smell of blood and nothing else. She hadn't had a scent.

Just like Alathea doesn't seem to.

(He can still see her shoulder blades, through the fabric of her sleeveless top, like the wings of a baby bird.)

Jason watches her from the roof of the next building as she quickly takes her trash out before scurrying back inside. He can see the way her clothes wear her, loosely, even though the sizes can't be that big, the angle of her movements. Meanwhile, for the first time, he spots a tiny figure drop by a window sill that Jason  _knows_  is Alathea's. It doesn't linger, just literally dropped down for a few seconds before climbing away again.

He can't be too sure about whatever's been left behind, but it sure does look like a flower to him.

"The fuck?" Jason stares, an ominous feeling rising. That feeling like your life is turning into some sort of twisted comedy show. "What've you gotten into, kid?

* * *

 

Jason remembers killing Egon.

(He doesn't think he can ever forget it.)

 _Don't tell me this world isn't better off for it_.

It had been simple enough, to put the poison in. It was a mostly tasteless mixture, and the bottle's seal was already broken. Unscrew the half-done lid, slip the extra milliliters of liquid, screw the cap back on the same way as before. Then, leave.

Easy as that.

Jason remembers killing Egon, and he doesn't regret doing it.

He just isn't sure if he's proud he did it.

If Jason ever thought of himself as a brave man, he would go to the replacement's place and ask her why a kid's dropping off flowers at her apartment. If he was brave, he would show his face to her and ask her why she let him out of jail. If Jason was a brave man, he would leave New York and find his own way because he sure as hell doesn't know what he's doing now, and he doubts hanging around the second Red Robin (and goddamn, kid, get your own alias, why don't you?) will do anything for him.

But Jason sees  _her_  shoulder blades through the shirt, poking out like baby bird wings. And she's so still and so silent and pale like she's  _dead_  and he runs to get help from one of the downstairs neighbors.

Jason sees Catherine, trembling on the bare mattress with her beautiful blue-green eyes slightly misted over, riding out her high. She's pale and thin and doesn't eat nearly enough – neither of them do. But he loves her and she loves him and his whole world is in the smile he never sees anymore; in the voice that's rarely present and ever-wandering eyes.

And his mom … Sheila Haywood. She died, too, in the explosion. They'd died there together.

(Except she didn't get better.)

So, if Jason has any courage at all, he'd turn away from Alathea now. But he remembers them, ghosts burned into the back of his eyes, and stays.

He watches her, and he waits.

* * *

 

Red Robin gets shot.

Jason  _roars_.

As soon as she grapple-guns to the rooftops, he crashes into the alleyway and  _breaks_  the gang members. It's like the before of the Lazarus Pit all over again – motion and reactions, drilled reflexes, speed, and something inside of him exults in the lack of form both Talia and Bruce would be left screeching by. No considerations, no second-guessing. It's pure instinct that dictates his movements and he loves every second of it.

(It's also a little terrifying, how  _easy_  it's become to shatter bone and just throw people around like they're so much dead weight.)

He ignores their pleading and he ignores their pained shouts. By the time he comes back to himself and really remembers Thea, no one else in the alley is breathing.

For a long moment, he just breathes.

It's quiet.

Finally, he shakes himself. Jason didn't pack a lot of grapple lines tonight, so he scales the building instead. It's not too difficult, especially when considering the fire escape. He reaches the top and realizes Red Robin's somehow managed to get herself a few buildings away.

She's lying down, flat on her back on the dirty concrete by the time Jason reaches her. Breathing is hitched and sounds pained and Jason sees blood seeping through her armor, in her abdominal area.

Fuck.

He doesn't  _think_  the bullet hit anything important.

"Red Robin? Red Robin!" Jason shakes her and to his ears, his voice is unmodulated, is young and scared and  _oh God, Mom_. "Kid!"

And Alathea's head just … lolls to the side.

 _Fuck_.

"Red Robin, if you can hear me, I'm going to get you somewhere safe, alright?" He gathers her into his arms as he speaks, secures his hold on her. Red Robin's heart rate stutters and starts and her breathing stays shallow as they make their way across the rooftops. She's lighter than Jason imagined, more like a doll in his arms than a person, and he holds her tight against his chest. Like she'll slip away, right through his fingers, if he doesn't. If he doesn't keep her in his periphery, half-listening for her ragged breaths.

(Just like his mom.)

"The fuck are you doing to yourself, kid?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the mentioned girl Jason remembers: Thea's ... condition isn't an isolated phenomenon.


	9. Broken Pedestals (Part III)

Thea looks up at the enshrined costume of Jason Peter Todd and feels painfully small.

Bruce won't talk about it, talk about him, and she doesn't ask. But she's read the file, so clinically put together, and quietly, privately mourns.

Thea realized Batman and the first Robin's identities when she was nine years old. By then, Robin as Batman's sidekick was in full swing: the two were a well-oiled machine that dealt justice to those who couldn't be handled law enforcement, for one reason or another. But Thea was nine years old and she couldn't follow them then, not really. She didn't know how yet, and the Gotham's skyline was still largely unfamiliar to her. But she kept at it, kept following them, kept observing, listens for anything in her daily life or on the news that might hint at their whereabouts.

Slowly, she improved.

But by the time she was good enough to consistently track them down and hide in the best hidden areas for taking photographs, Dick Grayson had moved on.

One fall morning, the newspapers gleefully announced Bruce Wayne's generous plans for the adoption of a child on the streets.

(She finds out later, much later, because Batman had taken care to shield his new child from the media for the moment, that his name is Jason Peter Todd.)

Thea followed them and snapped her pictures, pictures that any news agency would kill for. But they were hers – just hers. She carefully handled them in a spare room converted into her very own darkroom, remembering each bruise and scrape she got to take them and knew it was all worth it.

She never forgot Dick Grayson. But Jason Todd? Jason Todd was Thea's Robin.

"I won't let him self-destruct," she promises. "I won't let him fall apart." Her fingers touch the glass softly before her entire hand presses up against it.

It's the closest she'll ever be able to get to him, anymore.

* * *

 

"Kid."

Thea blinks, one hand over her bandaged midsection, highly conscious of the fact that the Red Hood is standing in the kitchen of an unfamiliar apartment, cooking something that smells so good her stomach voices complaints. His helmet is off, placed carefully on the marble countertop as he pays attention to the stove, and there are groceries, too, and  _why_?

The silence grows long and eventually, he looks over at her. Thea quickly gathers her jaw off the floor, straightens her posture somewhat even as she pulls the blanket she'd dragged off the bed she'd woken up in, tighter around her narrow shoulders. Her armor is gone and along with it, her weapons. She feels … not really nauseated but close.

Drugged?

She wonders.

"–thea? You okay, kid?"

She jolts and for a moment, she smells exotic incense, sees a flash of green and gold.

Her stomach tightens and twists.

"Hey, whoa!" Jason Todd's hands fly up defensively, palms facing outwards. Even his domino is off, and she sees his teal-tinted irises. "Not gonna hurt you…"

And it is Jason Todd, not Ra's al Ghul, who stands in front of her now. He's wearing sweats and a soft-looking tee (but that hardly means he's unarmed). She smells Alpha, smells concern, smells – well,  _Jason_. The entire place – at least, the areas she passed through on the way to the sounds of life emanating from the kitchen – smells of Jason. The scent hasn't quite settled into the place, though, there are still strong traces of cleaning agents and furniture polish, so he hasn't been around long.

There are sounds, Jason's voice, and she sees his mouth move, sees his gestures, his frown. And it's like – like being underwater. Thea brings the blanket up a little higher, covers herself just a little more. And she's glad, that she has clothes and a blanket: definite improvements from the last time a dubious character picked her up and took her home.

Then, Jason is reaching out, reaching for her, and she  _reacts_. She almost trips over her own feet as she stumbles back–

And Jason is steadying her. His arm wraps around her securely, squeezing her into her side as he guides her gently, slowly, to the nearest chair at the dining table. He sits her down, his voice deep and babbling nonsense the entire time.

"–C'mon, kid, let's get you off your feet, you look half-dead. Don't wanna talk, huh? That's okay, you'll feel better after we get some food in you–"

She watches him stand up straight for a moment, looking torn as he pauses in his … whatever this is, before turning back to the stove. He looks stressed, worried, and why is he in New York? How did he find her? Why did he help? Did something happen in Gotham?

God, she hopes not.

"Is that chicken soup?" Thea asks instead. Her voice is soft and small and stripped of all its defenses. And she wants to hate that, to hate the vulnerability, but there's nothing left anymore. Nothing left to give, nothing left to take. The Red Hood can't have anything of her now that someone hasn't already snatched up for themselves.

Thea feels dirty.

"Yeah." Jason sits down in the chair next to Thea and faces her. "Okay, now what's going on, kid?"

Thea blinks. Stares.

'What's going on?'

_R u ok?_

She looks down at her hands, flexes her fingers. She can't find anything to say, not really. What does he even want her to say?

The silence stretches onwards but to her surprise, Jason waits. He glances at the stove occasionally, where whatever he's put there is simmering away, but he stays in the chair and … why?

"Why what?" he asks, not unkindly, and she startles. Realizes that she spoke out loud.

(Or maybe she didn't – maybe, in the time they haven't seen each other, Jason has somehow learned the art of reading people like Cass does.)

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Slowly, carefully, she asks, "Why did you help me?"

She expects him to smirk. Say some scathing insult, something meant to crush her, to make him feel better about himself.

(Something true.)

Thea does not expect him to freeze, for just a moment. To look like a deer caught in the headlights.

And then, he moves and she wonders if it was a trick of the light.

"Well, shit, kid." He runs a hand through his hair and looks … mildly sheepish. "I guess we're both out of answers."

Thea regards him flatly. "That is not reassuring."

"It's not," Jason acknowledges easily. "But you need help, Replacement."

"I'm fine."

The answer is automatic, is soft. Thea lets the blanket fall from her shoulders and gather around her waist, on her lap. She stares at her hands, pale and thin and so damned breakable.

"…Yeah, kid, you're not fine. Anything but fine."

Even Thea's huff is slight. "If you know, then why'd you ask?"

"Because knowing something's wrong ain't the same thing as knowing  _what's_  wrong." He tries looking into her eyes, establish some form of non-invasive contact, but Thea looks away. Looks anywhere except at Jason, and the open window is … good. The window lets her see outside, to see the sky. There is no grate.

(This is not a cage.

Maybe.)

"What do you want me to say?" she whispers. Tell her what she needs to be. Who she needs to be.

"I want…" He trails off, lets out a shuddering breath. His body language is nervous.

Interesting.

"I want you to be Alathea Drake. Whoever that is."

Ah.

"Thea."

"Excuse me?"

She looks at him then, just a moment, before her eyes go back to the sky. "You want me to be … Thea. Just Thea."

"Yeah, I … yeah."

Strange.

When was the last time anyone wanted her to be 'just Thea'?

" _Why_?" Thea asks, sounding almost distraught.

And for a long while, Jason just looks completely dumbfounded. But then, he wipes the expression off his face and flexes his fingers. "Because you don't got anyone you need to impress here, kid – Thea. It's just –just me. And I don't expect much from you."

Well, the last part isn't a surprise, at least.

Thea nods and worries at the hemline of the borrowed shirt. It's a nice shade of dark red. "You don't want to kill me yet," she mumbles, unable to keep the small resentment in.

"Kid, I don't think I can anymore."

Her eyes lift to meet his then, and she knows her mouth is open in a little 'o' shape. "Why not?"

Jason stands up and goes back to the stove.

He doesn't answer her question.

(Maybe he doesn't need to.)

* * *

 

"Eat all of that or I'm forcing it down your throat," Jason bites out when he serves Thea a bowl full of soup. Her mouth waters at the smell, at the  _sight_  of it, and it takes every bit of self-control to keep herself from shoveling it all in her mouth. And her stomach twists as she eats, wanting and reviling sustenance at the same time. It's been so long, too long, and even though Jason probably chose to cook something simpler for her sake, Thea wonders if it can really stay down.

(Ra's used to bring her food.)

"Here's what I know," Jason says abruptly, as if continuing a conversation. "I know that you weigh less than a hundred pounds – which is  _way past minimum_  for your age and height – and you look like Killer Croc chewed you up a few times and spat you out. You can't argue this point."

Thea nods, a single stiff movement that brought his chin sharply down.

"And you're grieving Dick and the little brat."

Another nod.

"And boss man ain't doing a thing about it."

"He doesn't know."

But Jason waves his hand at the defense, and says, "Not an excuse. He's got one kid left, if he doesn't become an overbearing jackass – well, more so – after all that, there's something wrong with the guy."

That's … a unique perspective, but alright. Thea shrugs tiredly.

"Also, you're crap at taking care of yourself," Jason concludes. "Jeez, kid, do you even sleep? Your eyebags look like they're packing bricks."

Thea shakes her head slightly.

"Thought so."

Thea eats her soup and waits for … anything else. She has no idea where Jason is going with all this.

"I just don't understand one thing." And Jason pauses before saying, in a rush, "How does the kid fit into all this?"

Thea stares at him. "The … kid?"

"The tiny ninja that leaves you flowers all the time."

 _Pink carnations – a Mother's Day flower_.

The spoon falls from her trembling fingers. It lands in the bowl, splashing the broth. Some of it burns her hand, some of it lands on the table.

Jason is speaking again, talking and speaking and saying things, but she can't hear him, can't  _focus_  because oh, God, oh God–

It was a  _kid_?

"…Thea…?"

"I need to go." Thea pushes away from the table and stands on shaking legs. "I need to–"

A kid.

 _Fuck_.

"I…"

Thea falls. And she lets herself fall because–

Because–

"Kid!" Jason catches her and isn't that strange? Isn't it wonderful? Isn't it terrible? He goes down on the floor with her, still cradling her upper body, and minding the bandages. Thea twists awkwardly, away from his grip, but he holds her closely although not tightly and she appreciates that.

"You're crying."

And Thea jolts because no, she's not. And yes, she is.

"Oh," she murmurs, wipes at the hot wet that trails down her face with the back of her hand. "I – sorry, I – I–"

She doesn't finish her sentence.

Jason gently wraps his arms around her a little more fully, a little more securely and it's hard not to feel cagey. It's hard not to feel a manacle on her wrist, not to smell the fragrances and oils even long after she's washed her hair and damn near sterilized her body.

Thea hangs her head and sobs. It's hard to breathe, hard to think, but sitting on the floor is easy. Letting the seconds and minutes tick past is easy.

She pushes Jason away.

He lets go.

He doesn't ask and she doesn't volunteer. Instead, Jason sits on the floor with her and lets her stare at the tiles, at her knees, the windows. Lets her tears trickle down her face to her chin as she curls up. Just … lets her.

_I want you to be Alathea Drake. Whoever that is._

Thea closes her eyes and tries to remember.


	10. Simple

It's surprisingly cool in the desert at night.

Red Robin bleeds out from her abdomen, a clean through-and-through like a piece of barbecue meat. The assassin, not one of Ra's', was a surprise.

Council of Spiders. Sounds like a pain in the ass.

She drags herself to the jeep.

Z is dead.

Owens is dead.

Pru is … dying.

She can only take one with her.

"Sorry, guys," she mutters. More a ragged exhale than words but if they have spirits, if they're looking down on her now with disapproval or encouragement, she's sure they'd understand. She's not even sure she said it out loud or if she only mouthed the words.

Well. The dead can't get angry about those sorts of things anymore.

Except for Jason. But Jason is … well. Jason. Zombie jackass extraordinaire and psychotic murdering asshole.

He's a  _special case_.

Somehow, Red Robin crawls down from where she fell from the cave's entrance and gets one of Pru's arms around her shoulders.

This is – okay. This is going to suck. A lot.

Red Robin grits her teeth and  _stands_.

It's one of the most painful things she's ever done. She growls, keens, makes whatever sound that will release at least some of the tension as she half walks, half drags the two of them to the vehicle. Her vision goes in and out, her limbs are heavy but  _Bruce is alive_. She knows Bruce is alive, she has proof, and damn it, she's not going to die here.

She  _can't_.

Bruce is counting on her.

Red Robin forgets things as soon as they happen and she'll forget it all once this is over but she manages to get them both in the jeep. She's in the driver's seat and she struggles to remember all of the mechanics, the tricks Owens used to drive through the sand safely.

Just wait a little longer, Bruce. Just a little while longer.

* * *

 

Jason's house is quiet.

Thea is in Jason's house.

Why?

She's not sure. Then again, there are a lot of things she's unsure of. Most people, however, no matter how unsure they in life, usually don't stay in an apartment with someone who has repeatedly attempted to murder them.

Again, Thea did live in the Manor with Damian for some time before taking on Red Robin. So, it's not as if this isn't an entirely unprecedented situation.

Except, well, it's  _Jason_.

Specifically, it's Jason being  _nice_  and  _Thea_  being nice that's strange.

Mutual niceness.

Thea leans out the open window, maybe a little precariously but she used to be Robin and she  _is_  Red Robin, and stares out at the city skyline. Jason is out, doing whatever he does in New York, while Thea–

Well.

Thea's never exactly mooched off anyone in her entire life, but she has the strong feeling that it isn't too far away from what she's doing right now. Staying in the apartment of a man she is not related to in any particularly positive way, who does not owe her anything, and who feeds her. For free. No expectations, no demands.

Maybe she should pay him at the end of all this, when he inevitably kicks her out.

Thea sits on the window sill and observes the world far below. Pedestrians look like ants and cars, like plastic toys.

Wayne Enterprises wants Alathea Drake. The world wants Red Robin. Bruce wants Thea Drake-Wayne.

And Jason…

Jason.

Jason has changed Thea out of her Red Robin suit. Jason has seen her scars. Jason probably knows that Thea has had some sort of surgery.

Jason doesn't ask.

The apartment is quiet, and Thea is grateful.

* * *

 

Jason comes back in the early hours, and Thea likes waiting up. Thea likes sleeping in. Thea likes the pale, drab blue of the sky, misty and soft in her lungs. The world isn't real in the hours and minutes before the day begins, still remaking and reworking itself into something new.

She wishes it can fix her, too.

"You don't hate me anymore," Thea remarks late afternoon while watching Jason clean his armor. It comes out more of a question than a statement and turns into something in-between. Jason glances up at where Thea's perched herself at the edge of the table, and she meets his gaze. Catches it.

They stare at each other. Time stops and runs in his apartment and she isn't sure how long they spend just looking. Just seeing. Deciphering.

Finally, he straightens. Says, "No. I don't."

Thea hops off the table and wonders.

* * *

 

Thea cleans her damaged suit, scrubbing off dried blood, minding the bullet hole torn into the lower side. A chink in the armor Red Robin will need to look into before hitting the streets again. Jason's radio is tuned in to the latest top forty hits and an electronic beat fills the air.

She thinks of her parents.

She thinks of the last night she spent with her father, the last time her mother cooked a meal. Last things that should have been endless, dangerously close to being lost in time because she never committed any of it to memory.

Thea hadn't realized, back then.

She does remember Dad's voice, though: the last things he ever told her. She remembers his goodbye.

Would they be proud of her? Would they have wanted this life for their daughter? Would they bow their heads in sorrow or try to shelter her, try to protect her from the world?

Thea doesn't know, can't know, won't ever find out. The last parent she has is Bruce, and he–

Bruce is Batman; Batman is Bruce. She tries not to think about that too hard.

Batman didn't want a Robin when Thea stepped forward. She hadn't fully understood at the time but what she did know was that he needed Robin, and no one else would take up the burden.

It was never supposed to be permanent.

Thea holds the suit up against the light. She sees her designs and modifications, the scuff marks, the thought put into every detail.

In Jason's apartment, the suit is just a suit, the job is just a job. Thea is Thea – whoever that is – and Red Robin is only a name. A title.

A softer melody fills the air and a dulcet voice filters through.

Red Robin is Thea but Thea is not Red Robin. Thea is – she's–

More.

She is Red Robin and Robin and Alathea Drake and Alvin Draper and  _more_.

"I am Thea," she mouths. Sees the distorted reflection in the armor.

"I am Thea."

* * *

 

"Oh, come on, you need to eat more than  _that_."

Thea blinks, looks down at her plate and the larger-than-usual portion she's indulged in for the night. Eating more is … horrifying.

"But I'll gain weight."

Her heats will come back.

Jason gives her a funny look that makes her fidget. It's a sort of scrutiny that comes uncomfortably close to her mother's critical gaze in Thea's childhood. The resemblance is uncanny.

People don't usually see Thea.

"That's the point," he says, a bit dryly. Then, he dumps another handful of mashed potatoes on her plate.

Thea stares at it. "Jason, I can't-"

"Eat it. You need it."

"No."

He levels his gaze at her. His voice is gentle but firm. "Thea."

(She hates it.)

Her fork flies across the table and clatters on the floor.

It's such a childish move but she can't – she  _can't_ –

"You can't make me!" she shouts. And it feels like breaking some sort of spell, the strange peace the two of them have shared in the past few days. The sort of peace that never lasts. "I won't do it."

Jason stares her. She isn't sure if he's hurt or shocked or both or what. He just … looks.

And sees.

Thea is standing, is flushed and angry and overreacting. She crosses her arms and breathes in and out.

She hates this.

She hates him.

(She doesn't hate him.)

"…This isn't about your weight, is it?"

Thea ducks her head, hugging herself. "It is. It's … everything."

For the longest time, they let the silence stretch between them in an uneasy eternity. It's easier not to talk, it's easier not to say – anything – but there's tension in the air that's meant to be broken.

Finally, Jason speaks.

"I don't understand."

It's simple and clean. It's a confession and a request.  _Help me help you_. There's nothing he can gain from this endeavor, but he looks at her quietly with his blue-green eyes and all the sincerity anyone can put into body language.

He looks at her.

He sees her.

_What's going on?_

_R u ok?_

"What do you want from me?" she whispers. She begs.

"I want to understand," he says simply. So simply, as if the words have no price, as if understanding doesn't have so many consequences chained to it.

Nothing's ever been simple before.

Can anything be simple?

"I can't do this." The words flow out of Thea's lips and  _that_  is simple.

Jason is an Alpha, wired to protect what's his.

Thea is an Omega, made for nurturing, for growth and reproduction.

These things are simple.

Thea is an Omega. She thinks it, feels it, lets it make her heart pound.

For the first time in years…

 _I am Omega_.

She feels the words in her mouth, tastes it on her tongue. It electrifies her, adrenaline rushing through her veins.

Thea sits at the table again. Stares at the food.

_I am an Omega._

Jason waits.

"I'm not–" She fumbles with the words, a torrent of lies ready at the tip of her tongue. "I'm not okay."

The words feel like mountains, feel like dragons and ravenous wolves ready to eat Thea alive.

"That's okay," Jason says. "Thea, that's … that's okay."

Thea stares down at her trembling hands and swallows. "Really not okay," she mumbles.

And she thinks of children and flowers and the terrible  _maybe_  that threatens to swallow her up. She thinks about growing up in a cold house filled with relics and her parents and the things she can't want for herself.

She thinks about children.

Eventually, Jason presses a fork into her hand. His fingers are warm and gentle but rough to the touch. There are no oils or fragrances, only the smell of Jason and the apartment, and the lukewarm food on their plates. No chains, no fragrances, no overwhelming opulence. No assassins, no drugs, no cage.

Slowly, hesitantly, Thea digs the fork into the food. Is aware of Jason's gaze on her as she brings it to her lips.

She takes a bite. Thea has faced down Batman's worst enemies and gone against her own. She's been exposed to fear gas, Poison Ivy's toxins, and all manners of poison.

Finishing her plateful is one of the most terrifying things she's ever done. And yet–

_I am Thea._

_I am an Omega._

These things are simple. These things are fact. This is her, enjoying food her friend-companion- _something_  has prepared for them to eat and feeling her heart beat wildly. This is Thea, discovering that she fucking  _missed_  eating mashed potatoes.

All the while, Jason sits across the table and watches her while attending to his own plate. He's displayed more patience than she's ever given him credit for and a rush of emotion rises from within. It stings her eyes and clogs her airways, makes it hard to breathe right. Somehow, she manages, and swallows another mouthful of food.

Later, Thea makes sure it all stays down. They don't speak for the rest of the night, but for a moment, as they clean the table, she lets two of her fingers linger on his wrist. Just for a second, before she pulls away again.

There's a feeling she can't give words to, something she can't identify.

She'll figure it out someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, one of the reasons it took me a while to write this chapter was because I was hesitating over whether Jason was too nice. So, I poked around canon a bit, read some fan analyses and decided it was okay. The guy took care of his mother, only stole when he needed to, and in another universe, turned into a priest after dying. Which kind of goes to show how badly Talia screwed him up...


	11. Gray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere out in the world, there is a child of dubious relation to Thea. A child, who has … problems, if the amount of flowers on the doorstep and windowsills of her apartment are any indication.
> 
> Going inside would be incredibly stupid at this point.

The stars shine brighter in New York than they do in Gotham.

Somewhere out in the city, Jason is investigating a string of strange murders. They'd gone over the case files earlier in the day, analyzing police reports and crime scene photos Thea hacked. Before leaving the apartment, Jason suggested Red Robin make an appearance.

"I wouldn't mind the extra hands."

Thea had turned slightly, inclined her head, let her fingers rub thoughtfully on the book she'd borrowed from Jason's sparse shelves. She thought about it, seriously, because this deserved serious thought, before shaking her head.

He hadn't pushed.

She sits on the roof of the apartment building instead as she waits for her friend-companion-something to return. Swings her legs over the edge with a borrowed sweater from Jason's couch because most of what she has right now is his.

It's soft. Warm. It smells like Jason, something she's coming to associate with a measure of safety. It's dangerous, she knows, like Alice falling into the rabbit hole, but she can't bring herself to do anything about it.

Thea hasn't gone back to her apartment yet – doesn't want to face the impersonal interior she hadn't bothered decorating since moving in. Doesn't want to face the mess of clothes and things, the life she'd made of hacking and casework and marathon days with only coffee to keep her going. She doesn't want to see the dead flowers that might have piled up on her doorstep or on her windowsills, from a small ninja stranger who – well.

Red Robin lives in that apartment.

Thea, somehow, lives with Jason.

It's still a strange thought, but no less true. The apartment is a bit cramped with two people living in it now, but there are blankets and pillows on the couch Thea sleeps on and an extra toothbrush in the bathroom.

Jason doesn't exactly make a lot of money. She's seen him counting out his funds on the kitchen table late at night sometimes when he thinks she's fallen asleep. She's seen him run his hand through his hair and then down his face as he looks at the pile of bills. The equipment and medicals supplies, as well as their maintenance, can't be cheap –  _aren't_  cheap, and there are reasons why most people can't maintain double lives for very long.

Thea's never been strapped for cash. She still isn't. She's got a pile of funds in the bank, from her parents and Bruce, and she can probably make more if she takes up a real job. 'Real', in that it actually  _pays_  her something.

Red Robin doesn't have a paycheck. Just … benefactors.  _A_  benefactor.

Thea doesn't even know what Jason's doing for a living now. It's sort of a tossup between living off the money he'd made as Gotham's temporary crime lord or turning into a small-time mercenary.

Honestly, it could be both.

Thea hums, watches the city lights, listening to the nightlife not too far below. Doesn't turn around when a muffled thump emanates from behind her.

"I hope you're not planning what you look like you're planning."

She says, "I'm not."

"Good, that's good." Jason sits down beside her in his Red Hood gear sans the helmet. A sideway glance reveals he's kept the mask on.

Boy scout.

"What're you doing out here?" he asks, because this is what he does now. Which is strange and delightful, having someone to ask that again. Strange and delightful and somewhat terrifying.

"Nothing," Thea says. "Thinking."

Jason hums idly. "Anything good?"

"I should probably get some things from my apartment." She inclines her head, trying to make it look thoughtful. Because she is. Being thoughtful. Full of thoughts. So many. "I can't keep borrowing your stuff."

"Sounds like a plan."

Thea tucks her knees under her chin.

"Know when you're gonna do it?"

"No."

Jason nods, eyes on the city. "Leave a note before you go, or I'll think you've been kidnapped."

What escapes Thea isn't a proper laugh. More of a snort than anything, followed with a giggle. She tosses her head back and looks up at speckled night sky and listens to the sound of the Red Hood slipping away to discreetly enter the apartment somehow. Eventually, she follows him inside, into the warmth, where he smiles at her under the warm glow of the artificial lights and she can think that maybe one of these days, she'll be able to smile back.

* * *

 

Somewhere out in the world, there is a child of dubious relation to Thea. A child, who has …  _problems_ , if the amount of flowers on the doorstep and windowsills of her apartment are any indication.

Going inside would be incredibly stupid at this point.

She unlocks the door and lets it stay open as she steps through the threshold.

The furniture is wrecked, and angry scratches mar the walls. Pink carnations lie on the floor, scattered around. Some of them even make it in her drawers and the cupboards. The air smells overwhelmingly of dead flowers as Thea shoves her clothes and necessary items into a duffel bag. Every second strings a wire inside her chest tighter and her hands are shaking and she needs to  _get out_.

She can't find her mother's shawl.

Never mind; she can come back for it later. Her pulse drums in her ears and fills the seconds as she stuffs her laptop and charger and a few of the data banks into her backpack. Her wallet gets thrown inside, too, and she zips up the backpack and the duffel bag.

The bedroom door whines behind her. Thea whips around in a ready stance and sees–

Sees a child, a small one, maybe a little smaller than Damian, standing by the entrance. His dark brown hair is straight and short-cropped, facial features sharper than Thea's, and his eyes are a vivid, poisonous shade of green.

He stares at her and Thea stares back, trying not to look too much like a deer caught in the headlights.

How did she not smell him? Why doesn't she smell him now? Is there a suppressor in his clothes? Dear God, where did he get those fucking green eyes? Even Ra's' eyes aren't that green.

"Mother."

His voice, childlike but trying not to be, jolts Thea.

"I'm Gray," he says quietly, almost a whisper in the dead air between them. "I'm your son."

Thea nods. Straightens.

Her son. And a part of her knows it's true, somehow, even if it doesn't make sense. Without proof, without justification, she  _knows_.

"Does Ra's know you're here?" Thea asks, her grip on the backpack tightening. Worst comes to worst, she's perfectly willing to abandon everything and make a break for the window.

"No," he replies dispassionately, not moving a step as he speaks, as he eats her with his wide, doe eyes. "Mother."

"You…" Thea swallows, tries to calm the beat of her heart. Ra's won't be coming. "You trashed my apartment."

"You disappeared."

"So you went to my apartment … and wrecked everything?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Thea edges towards the window, the duffel bag's straps in her hand, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She hopes for subtlety, but Gray's gaze follows her like an owl's: his head turns instead of moving his eyes. The rest of his body stays utterly still and there's something incredibly unnerving about the entire movement and lack thereof that crawls under Thea's skin.

The hell did Ra's do to him? Even  _Damian_  didn't move like that when he first came to the Manor.  _Damian_.

"Father told me you weren't ready for a reunion yet."

Thea's heart jumps into her throat.  _Father_. Right. Fuck. "Oh? Did he say anything else?"

"That you don't understand." Gray's voice remains flat, remains factual. Thea steps backwards, on petals, towards the window. It's not so far away anymore. "That you've committed yourself to a cause that will eat you alive."

"Did he tell you..." Thea swallows down her scream. "Did he tell you what he did to me?"

He can't really be that twisted, can he? Ra's, with all his pride, wouldn't tell his own damned child that the only way he got him was through –  _well_. Not entirely legal or moral means.

"No."

For a moment, Thea is relieved – and grateful. So, strangely grateful. Then–

"But I looked up the security tapes."

Thea stares at him. "Security tapes."

Gray nods once, a bob of his little head. "Father had no pictures of you, so I hacked into the archives for the dates in which you would have had contact with him."

She feels faintly sick. "And?"

His lip curls slightly, the only hint of disgust. "I found you."

"Disappointed?" Thea knows she shouldn't antagonize him like this, that she doesn't know exactly what he's capable of, but nothing feels real.  _She_  doesn't feel real anymore. "With how your father got you?"

"Father is a bastard."

The admission relaxes Thea. This is something. Good because Ra's  _is_  a bastard and maybe not so good because Ra's is also the kid's –  _Gray's_  dad and what does that  _do_  to a child's psyche? What does it do to a child to watch his dad – to watch his dad rape his mom?

Her fingers tremble at the thought. At the admission in her head. Rape. That was what happened. That was Ra's did to her. And now here, in front of her, are the results of it.

Sort of.

"You were born in a lab," she says, though it comes out as a query.

"Yes."

"How?"

"After his failure to impregnate you traditionally, Father took some of your reproductive material and combined it with his. He then accelerated the rate of growth – half a year aged my body to almost a decade."

"So, you're ten. Physically."

Just like Damian was.

"Nine," he corrects blandly.

"Why doesn't Ra's know you're here?" Thea is close enough to the window now, close enough to run and jump out but curiosity bids her to stay. And something inside her, stronger than curiosity, stronger than the almost overwhelming instinct to run, needs to know.

"Father might know where I am," Gray concedes with a slight, calculated tilt of his head. "But if he does, he has not acted upon the knowledge." He pauses, piercing gaze narrowing; the crunch of breaking glass is deafening when Thea takes another step back. His finger twitches and she doesn't know what it means, doesn't know what he thinks, how he thinks, if she should base her assumptions off what she's seen from Damian or try to assume he's stranger than that or more normal.

Somehow, she doesn't think he's more well-adjusted than Damian. Sue her, but it might be the flowers and broken furniture.

"You're afraid of me," he says, softly, and his shoulders sag somewhat.

He doesn't want her to be?

"You did wreck the apartment." The words come out absurdly airy, but this is just not … there is no precedent, and Thea's mind is whirling.

"I did."

And Thea looks at the small child standing by the doorway, the child watching her, drinking in the sight of Thea. Hanging onto her words, throwing a temper tantrum when he couldn't find her and waiting for her to return…

She thinks of Damian, who wanted nothing more than his father's love and recognition, even when he didn't know the right way to get it.

She thinks of Dick as she lets go of the bags and goes down on one knee. As she gestures him forward, watches him slowly approach. His eyes are unsure, his movements just the slightest bit clumsy. He didn't anticipate this, and she wonders what that says about – everything.

It doesn't fully dawn on her until she's wrapping her arms around his stiff figure that he might expect her to hit him.

"Mother," he stutters. His arms hang by his side.

The seconds tick by and grow into minutes. Thea doesn't move, doesn't budge an inch from her position, resting her chin on the juncture between his shoulder and his neck. She hugs him close but not tightly, knows how such a thing can be misconstrued as a possible attack.

She doesn't know how long it takes before Gray finally lifts his arms around her. She feels his little hands settle against her back, only a year old and already so big. He should only be a baby, only a toddler by now, but here they are, as they are, and Thea can only hold him closer for it.

He is her son.

She is his mother.

These are the facts. Now, what will she do with them?

Gray's fingers dig into her clothes, grasping her, and he chokes, "Mother."

Thea breathes him in and calms herself. She breathes him in and tells herself this is real, that she needs to plan, that she needs to do something and there are things she knows and things she doesn't, but she can't be careless. She can't disappear. Not now.

Not anymore.


	12. I'm Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!

There's a list in Thea's head she'll never write out. It's a shorter one, more personal, more private. It's the one Dick is on, the only danger she can imagine him being.

_People who may emotionally compromise Red Robin_

Not catchy, but it's exact. Most of the people on that list are dead –  _Mom, Dad, Dana, Dick_  – but there are still a few alive. There's Bruce, Alfred, the Titans. Recently, it's even tentatively grown to include Jason.

Now, there's Gray.

Thea awkwardly wraps her arm around her son as they sit in the back of the cab. Gray's little fingers cling to her overcoat – borrowed from Jason – and his nose wrinkles slightly, probably at the scent.

"You've been staying with a man," he says, a bit accusingly, and yeah, it's not socially appropriate to do that but it's not socially appropriate to run around at all hours in the night wearing tights, masks, and armor, either.

"He's a friend. Technically, your uncle." Dear God, that's strange – Jason, an uncle. With how many orphans Bruce has taken in over the years, though, it's probably been due a long time now. "Jason. Your uncle Jason. We're going to his apartment."

Hopefully, he won't kick them out. He'd have every right to, at this point: it's not like he ever signed up for taking in a kid, and the apartment is already a bit of a tight fit with the two of them. Thea wouldn't blame him if he just … gives up on her at this point because this is – this would be too much, for most people. This would be 'you're great, but I need you to leave now'.

Fuck, how is she even going to deal with this legally? Gray is physically  _nine_ , she can't reasonably pass him off as her child, even if it  _is_  true. Maybe she can fake his papers, give him to a good family. Let him grow up without that kind of scandal.

Thea remembers pink carnations in almost every nook and cranny of her apartment, the broken glass, the wrecked furniture, and suppresses a shiver. Probably not a good idea, for everyone's sake.

"How long were you waiting at the apartment?" she asks quietly, so the driver won't hear. Thea  _knows_  she didn't have any food there when she left. Just coffee and some stale crackers, if that.

Gray shrugs, stares into empty space. Then, he looks at her and there's something so much like  _awe_  in his eyes, like Thea hung up the sun and the moon and even the stars in the sky.

She clears her throat. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Mother," he says simply.

Maybe he's not that good at English yet.

Softening her voice, she murmurs, "What are you thinking of, son?"

"Mother."

And – oh.  _Oh_. Okay.

Should she be worried about this? She thinks she should be.

Her phone buzzes abruptly in her pocket. When Thea looks down, it's a reminder for a message received from last night.

A message from Bruce.

Thea bites her lip. Then, she switches the lock screen off and turns back to Gray.

"What was it like," she asks, a tremble in her voice she hopes he doesn't notice, "Living with – your father?"

For a long time, Gray is silent. Then, when she thinks he's ignored her, he says, "Structured. Tutors came and went at their designated hours, and Father would come along sometimes to watch my progress."

"Oh." It seems … impersonal, but not so terrible. Not too far away from Thea's own childhood, and isn't that disturbing?

"We ate dinner together sometimes." He pauses. "He told me about you whenever I asked. He said you were brilliant but wasting your talent."

Thea rubs circles into Gray's shoulder and tries not to feel too bitter. She works hard for her accomplishments, she shouldn't feel ashamed that they made a madman notice her.

Ra's' actions are Ra's' fault. Not hers.

Softer, he says, "He said you were beautiful."

Did he, now? Thea wonders if Ra's would still call her beautiful now, as she is: emaciated, ribs sticking out, her face gaunt and skin pale. She's been getting better, putting on more weight and the shadows under her eyes have eased somewhat but she's still a long way from feeling beautiful or even healthy. At all.

Mostly, she just feels like a ghost.

The corners of her lips quirk upwards, a bit. She's never been one to care much, but… "And what do you think?"

He looks at her then, poison green eyes serious as he regards her face.

She waits.

"Yes," he says with a small nod. "Mother. You're beautiful."

Straightforward. Serious.

It's ... cute.

Thea squeezes Gray to her side briefly. Wonders what it's called when a hug becomes huggier than usual. Dick would have known, probably.

She wonders … if he'd have been proud.

"Thank you, son."

 

Every step leading up to Jason's apartment spreads ice in her veins. Thea's heart pounds hard against her ribs and she makes sure to keep Gray close.

"Gray, I need you to listen," she'd said before entering the building. "I need you to let me do the talking, okay? Jason doesn't know about … any of this, so I'll have to explain it to him."

If he doesn't kick them out, first.

Thea unlocks the door with the spare key Jason had offhandedly given her before she'd left that morning. He'd ruffled her hair slightly – it's the first time she's really gone outside since getting shot. He saw it as progress, she thinks.

What the hell will he make of this?

"Jason," Thea calls out softly, into the apartment. Doesn't know if she hopes he's here or not. "I'm back. I…" Her voice fails as he comes out of the bedroom. He'd offered her to stay there and him on the couch a while back, but at that point, it had become too embarrassing for Thea. He hadn't been happy, but she took the couch.

He looks relaxed.

Then he sees Gray. Something flashes in his blue-green eyes, something … not entirely good.

Instinctively, Thea tugs her son closer to her side. Jason … he's been kind, but he hasn't always been the most stable person. It wasn't so long ago he'd stabbed her in the chest with the full intention of murdering her. Can she trust him with this? Can she trust him with her son? Thea doesn't want to do this alone, doesn't thinks she  _can_ , but if she has to…

She breathes in deep, searching desperately for any hint of aggression in his scent. Any hint of it, and they would run. Any hint of it, and Thea will take Gray somewhere they'll never be found, never be bothered. If there's something she doesn't doubt, it's her ability to hide herself from … everyone.

Jason stares at them.

"Thea…?" His voice is uncertain.

Thea bites her lip. With the slightest pressure from her hands, Gray steps forward. She says, trying to sound more confident than she feels, "This is Gray. He's … he's my son." Then, she pulls him back, pulls him slightly behind her.

It takes everything in Thea not to try to completely hide Gray behind her legs when Jason focuses on him. When his eyes narrow. Then, slowly, Jason looks back up at Thea.

"Gray," he says carefully, his words measured, "Why don't you watch something on the TV? I need to talk with your mom."

Gray's fingers tighten around Thea's borrowed sweater. The last thing she'd have to borrow, hopefully. "Mother," he hisses, "Is he dangerous?"

Thea only pushes him gently towards the couch.

They're about to find out.

 

Jason closes the bedroom door behind him. It's the only place they can talk with any sort of privacy, as the kitchen and living room are open to each other, and the apartment building's hallway echoes too much.

"I thought said you were just getting your things from your apartment," he says immediately when he turns around. Thea doesn't flinch, doesn't step back. She stands as tall as she can and looks him in the eye.

"I did. I wasn't sure he existed before that, but he was there when I arrived. Jason, he was  _waiting_  for me."

"Look, I don't know a lot about what you've been doing with your life, but he's too fucking old to be your kid. You'd've been – what, nine when he was born?"

"He's my son."

"You've said that, but it's impossible. And he was the one stalking you, wasn't he? The one leaving flowers? You don't have to tell me, he  _reeks_  of them."

"He was waiting for me there - for who knows how long!"

"So you brought him  _here_? God, Thea…"

"Well, what did you expect me to  _do_?" Barbed wire lines her voice and her insides, ready to draw blood. She's doesn't want her voice to rise but the anger is mounting in a deep well she hadn't known existed inside herself because she's trying, she's just  _trying_ , trying her best even if it's the worst. " _Leave_  him there? Let him go back to  _Ra's_?"

They both still.

What would it take, for Thea to be able to grab her words out of time and space and stuff them into her mouth? She stares at Jason, her mouth slightly open before snapping her face away. She folds her arms and looks firmly at the door.

Is it bad if she thought about it, too? Thought about leaving him there? Thought about running away and forgetting him? Does that make her a bad person, a bad parent, a bad vigilante? Is it worse that she  _has_  taken him and might possibly screw him up worse than he was before because she has no fucking clue what she's doing or what her next move is?

"So, he's … he's Ra's'."

"He's  _mine_."

Jason explodes. " _What the fuck_. How old were you when that would even have happened? Ten? Eleven? What the fuck, Thea?!"

"Lower your voice–! Ra's accelerated his aging. I didn't check, but I  _know_  he's mine, I just … I do." Thea watches Jason run his fingers through his hair. Watches him sort through everything in his head.

She won't cry.

"Fucking creep," she hears him growl under his breath.

"Indeed," is the muffled reply through the door.

" _Gray_!" Thea yelps even as Jason yanks the door open. It swings fast, and her son stands ever-solidly in front of them. His sharp eyes lay their steady gaze on them and seems entirely unperturbed by the decidedly disturbed expression Jason gives him. Gray, now discovered, simply walks to his mother's side and clings to her with his little fingers.

"Father," Gray informs them before either Jason or Thea can speak, "Used unfortunate means for my conception after he failed to impregnate Mother." Calmly, he concludes, "The Demon's Head makes good on his title."

If Thea could faint at will, she would faint  _now_. Right  _now_.

Please, God, let her faint. Let her disappear or be anywhere but  _here_  having  _this_  conversation. Maybe she could have lied earlier, given some half-assed explanation or hell, even just an implication that Ra's took her DNA and melded it with his or something.

Not anymore.

"Thea," Jason says, quietly, flatly, "What–"

"He raped me."

It comes out in a gust of air. She doesn't know if she's saying it because of Gray, or if it's for Jason or even herself, but she says it. Has to say it. She says it and knows it's true and that it happened and she can't – she can't run away from it anymore.

Again. "He raped me."

Her legs give in, let her fall back against the nearby closet and slide down to the floor where Gray stares at her with distressed, green eyes.

"Mother, what's wrong?"

Thea bites her lip and closes her eyes. It doesn't make her disappear but it keeps her from seeing them. From seeing Gray's wide eyes and the weight of Jason's gaze. She draws her knees up, buries her face in her hands because they see it now: how weak she was, how weak she still is.

She can't – she won't cry.

Little fingers hook into her sweater and tugs gently, insistently.

"Mother," Gray whispers, sounding more shaken than he seems capable of being. "What's wrong?"

Thea opens her mouth but all that comes out is a ragged sob. She can't even recognize it as anything meaningful. But finally, she manages to calm herself just enough.

"He took me," she gasps between the awful shuddering of her chest, stealing the breath out of her lungs. Her sobs are dry and she can't stop, no matter how hard she tries. "He  _kept_  me, and he wanted … God, he… He… I didn't want – I didn't…"

Her throat closes and suddenly, she realizes Gray is on the floor with her. He's huddled into her side, curled around her. She uncovers her face and opens her eyes. Pulls him into her lap.

Gray's fierce eyes stare into empty space as he hugs as much of Thea as he possibly can. She presses her face into his hair.

Her baby.

A shadow falls over them and she looks up.

Jason kneels in front of them. Taller, bigger, stronger, and she stares at him. A bit vaguely, she wonders what he'll do, if he'll do anything at all. Is he going to kick them out? Does he resent Gray? Has he given up on Thea? Has he figured it out? What is he thinking, what are you thinking, please say something, saying anything, say–

Jason leans forward and for the first time, the pure pity in his eyes becomes clear to her. The sadness.

Yes, Thea supposes she and Gray make a pitiful-looking pair. She can admit that much. It helps that she does feel as pathetic. As weak.

Slowly, carefully, Jason reaches out with both hands. For a moment, panic seizes Thea: is he taking Gray? Is he tearing her away from her baby?

He doesn't. Instead, Thea finds Gray and herself wrapped in his Alpha's scent. His arms are strong around them, around her, and she blinks. Gray tenses between them but he doesn't move, doesn't struggle. Thea is grateful Gray doesn't push Jason away.

"Jason?" She trembles. He pulls them close to him, envelopes them in his embrace, in his scent. It settles into them, will take showers and days to get rid of if he doesn't let go sometime soon.

He shushes her softly, drawing them closer until he's all around them. Hiding them. Shielding them.

A pained keen leaves Thea's throat and he rubs her back gently. She wants – she wants to trust this, trust him, but she just…

"I'm here," he whispers, and it's all she ever wanted. From anyone. From everyone. "I'm here. God, Thea, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you were alone. I was such an ass. Does Bruce know?"

She laughs shakily. "Pretty sure Bruce figured out you were an ass a long time ago."

He keeps rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles.

"No," she admits after a long while. "No one knows. Knew."

Then, smaller, more scared: "I don't know what to do."

He holds them tighter then. This close, Thea can even feel Gray's pulse and though he doesn't say a word, she feels it pick up ever so slightly.

"It's okay," Jason murmurs. "We'll figure things out. We'll be okay."

Thea cries.


	13. Jason - Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's story didn't have a happy ending; he'll make sure this one does.

It's dark. Jason sits on the floor, back against the dresser with his arm around Thea. She's stopped crying, stopped whimpering, simply breathing as she leans against him with her fingers white around Gray. It's gotta hurt a little but the kid doesn't say anything, doesn't so much as squirm or budge. Nah, he curls up on her lap and just rests his head against her shoulder, his bright green eyes almost cutting through the darkness, staring straight into Jason.

He'd be lying if he says it doesn't send a few chills down his spine.

Jason doesn't want to break the silence. The day is still bright through the cracks in the covered windows, but he feels too tired to face the world right now. He's half sure Thea doesn't want to, either, so he adjusts his position and lets Thea rest against him. He's seen the expression on her face before: she's thinking, thinking real hard, and he doesn't blame her. He'd actually be pretty worried – well,  _more_  worried – if she wasn't.

"You are quite attached to Mother," Gray observes and – yeah, Jason can see why the kid's all riled up. Well, as riled as he seems capable of being. Jason's pretty sure if he ever got Damian riled up, he'd find a katana bearing down on his neck. Not … that he thinks the kid can't do that. In fact, looking into Gray's unmoving gaze, he rather thinks this kid might even be better at it than Damian.

Whatever. Jason's only been around psychotic murderers and asshole vigilantes for most of his life. He can deal.

"Yeah, well, Thea's legally my sister, which legally makes you my nephew, so I'm worried about you both. Got it?" Lightly flicking his nose feels almost like tickling a sleeping bear, and is  _ridiculous_  because Gray is basically a baby, but it's almost worth it to see the flash of irritation cross Gray's face.

The baby assassin sneezes.

 _Definitely_  worth it.

"Your hands are dusty."

"They're  _clean_ , thank you very much."

Gray's eyes narrow but he makes no further comment. He opts instead to bury his face into Thea's shoulder and cling to her like a baby koala.

"I'll call you that," Jason muses almost fondly. "Baby koala. Or – jellybean."

" _What_."

Gray's flat but utterly confused voice makes Thea laugh slightly. Jason grins. "Y'know, because baby koalas are smaller than my thumb."

Gray just stares at him.

"He's just joking," Thea reassures her kid gently. "Jason's like that. He won't actually call you a jellybean."

Jason winks, and it might just be him, but Gray adopts a wide-eyed gaze, like he's just now realizing what exactly he might be getting himself into.

"So, what're you called out on the street, kid? Your mom keeps stealing my awesome aliases, but I know you've got more imagination than that."

Gray stares at him. "Mother, what is he saying?"

"He's just asking you if you have a … codename. Which," Thea adds, "You won't be using for a while."

"I… have none." Gray pauses. "But why would I not use it?"

"Because you're not going anywhere near that life. Not until you're  _at least_  – at least twenty!"

"Not bringing the third generation into the family business?" Jason asks, not so much to cast doubt on Thea's decision, but … really? "He'll at least need to know the ins and outs. Ignorance is just as dangerous as knowing too much." Maybe more, even.

Thea sits up now, Gray having slipped off her lap to cuddle at her side. "Of course I'll teach him to defend himself. But I am not going to have him out on the streets in bright tights, taunting some crazy criminal who can't even be put away for a few months at a time." She looks down at her son. Her voice grows soft as she says, "Dick's dead. Damian's dead. You died and came back  _rabid_  for a while – no offense–"

"None taken."

"–I'm not – I  _can't_  – I won't let anything happen to Gray. He's a child, and he's going to  _be_  one."

Huh.

"When are you gonna break the news to B?" He straightens up when Thea stays silent. " _Are_  you going to tell him?"

Voice soft, Thea says, "I know you've figured out my caste now. And I know you've probably figured out more than I wanted you to. But … Bruce is …  _difficult_."

Jason almost scoffs. Difficult is an understatement – and if Bruce realizes Thea's caste… "Are you telling anyone else?"

Thea bites her lip.

"I see."

"Mother … are you ashamed of me?"

The question visibly startles Thea and she look at Gray for a long moment – too long, really, before she finally replies, "No, Gray. Never think that. I'm not ashamed of you."

"This isn't something you keep secrets about," Jason finds himself cautioning her. "Not if you're working with him. He'll find out sooner or later and it'll blow up in your face. Pretty sure you know that too well already."

"That's hypocritical."

Jason shrugs as best he can. "That's B."

"That's the problem." Thea sighs, kisses her son's head and Jason just – he can't look away. "I can't live with someone like that – and I just know he'll insist we stay with him if I tell him about Gray. Out of misplace guilt or responsibility or anything. Bruce self-destructs, we know that, and I don't want Gray to grow up around someone who destroys everything when he grieves or feels angry."

Did Bruce do something to  _Thea_  after Damian died? After Dick? It's almost repulsive, but what if–?

Jason huddles closer to her, almost wanting to just cover her and Gray with his body and growl at the darkness. It's instinctive and disturbing: he hasn't felt so protective over anything since he died. As an Alpha, he's entirely aware of his heightened aggressiveness and territorial urges, but it's the first time he's felt it so deeply within, almost reverberating in himself.

Shit.

"Bruce…" He hesitates. It's pathetic, really. He's been around victims before, he knows how to handle them. Jason breathes in deep. "Did he ever hurt you?"

His questions seems to bemuse Thea. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, did he ever … hurt you? Verbally, emotionally … physically."

"No." Thea considers it for another moment before continuing, "Actually, I think you have a … misinterpretation concerning our relationship. Bruce and I … we're not the way you and Bruce were, or Dick was with Bruce. He never wanted me, you know? I was the one who pretty much insisted he needed me – well, that he needed someone, but when Dick refused to be Robin again, it kind of just fell to me. I was only ever Robin to him – it was a professional relationship, for the most part. Really, he only adopted me because no one else would take me in – I tried staying with a fake uncle, but when it didn't pan out, I ended up taking his offer."

What.

The.

Hell.

"Fake uncle?" Jason starts because he doesn't even want to delve into the 'professional relationship' aspect just yet.

"A few days after my dad died, Bruce offered to adopt me. I kind of … well, I kind of panicked." Thea's voice turns sheepish and  _that really does not help_. "So, I broke into the lawyer's office, altered the records, and hired an actor to play my uncle. Bruce was actually pretty okay with it as long as I could keep up my grades and Robin properly. I think he expected it to fall through sooner or later, though – which it did, eventually."

What the hell.

"You look angry," Gray remarks, and Jason takes in deep breathe. He counts to ten and unclenches his hands.

"So, it's always been Batman and Robin for you two, not … Bruce and Thea," he confirms in the most even, relaxed voice he can manage. It still sounds choked.

"Yep."

Holy shit, no wonder she was so messed up when he picked her up off the roof that night.

"But he must've been proud when you graduated early or some shit, right?" Jason tries to play it off, make it sound like some sort of stupid joke, but a part of him  _knows_  when Thea stays quiet. "I mean, I haven't seen you go to high school anywhere here and you're still a minor."

"I dropped out."

"Say that again for me, please." What are you doing to your kids, B?

Thea laughs softly. "It's not as if I could bring my homework along with me while I looked for Bruce."

"And Dickhead didn't have anything to say about it?"

"Dick…" Her voice trails off and oh crap, that's a sensitive topic for her, isn't it? "Dick tried chasing after me for a little while, but I convinced him to let me go."

"He shouldn't have let you go alone." Where was Jason during all this? Getting drunk in a bar somewhere in Gotham, he's pretty sure.

"He had a lot of responsibilities then. It's not like he was perfect. Gotham and Damian needed him, too."

That's not an excuse – not a good one, at any rate. Jason runs a hand through his hair. He's gonna punch the shit out of some lowlife later tonight, but for now he clenches and unclenches his hands, draws his knees up and tries looking sympathetic.

God, he needs a smoke.

"I  _can_  get a GED, though," Thea muses. "It would be easy, and I could … maybe go to college."

Jason nudges her gently. "What would you take?"

"I dunno… Business, maybe, so I can learn to manage things at WE better."

"And if WE wasn't a consideration?"

"I … don't know."

"You can figure it out," Jason tells her gently. "You've got the time."

"Maybe…"

"Don't sound so worried, Red. I'll be here to lend a hand if you need help." Jason hesitates. "I know it's a bit early to ask, but I do need to know … what do you want for the immediate future? I'm cool with whatever, but I'll need some notice if you're planning on moving out or something."

"Of course, um…" Thea laughs nervously. "My apartment is actually a mess right now. Do you mind if we…?"

"'Course not. I'll take the couch." Jason interrupts Thea before her protests can fully form. "You and the kid need somewhere to sleep. I'll pick up a futon tonight." There's always a place to get something in New York, at pretty much any hour. "Between that, the couch, and the bed, we should be fine for a bit. I mean, it'll be a tight fit and we obviously can't stay that way forever, but it'll do for now."

"I … thank you," Thea says hesitantly. "Thank you, Jason. Really, for everything."

He awkwardly waves it away. "It's what family does for family."

For a moment, Thea looks confused and that's … that's one of the saddest things ever. Her expression is reflected on Gray and just … God, doesn't anyone in this house have memories of a healthy father figure? Even Jason has them: Bruce had made a pretty good, if slightly clueless dad, back in the day. Why doesn't it look like he showed that at all to Thea?

An unfamiliar tune rings in the air between them and Thea whips out a phone from her back pocket. "Alfred…" she breathes.

Thea picks up the call and Jason doesn't need to hear anything to know.

"They need you." He doesn't even bother trying to make it into a question after the call ends.

"Yeah."

"Any idea why?"

"No."

"Mother? Will you go?"

Thea looks down at her son and – fuck, she's just so torn. "It'll be dangerous, Gray, but I don't want to just leave you alone."

"You could bring me with you."

"Kid, we just discussed why your mom doesn't wanna do that."

"Because you are afraid of Grandfather's opinion."

Thea swallows. "That's not it, Gray. I'm fine with that. I want you to be safe. I just … I don't want him or his enemies to come after us or something."

Or B convincing her to stay with him, but Jason can't say that out loud. Not in front of Gray. She probably knows it, anyway. Knows how tempting it would be to let B talk her into staying at the Manor, to let him and Alfred help her raise Gray. It would sound reasonable and in most cases, it would be.

Every kid Bruce ever took in became Robin. But what would life have been like if B had just ... not let them do that? If he'd put his foot down and maybe given them a higher age requirement. Really, who let preteens do that, anyway? Being Robin was one of the best things Jason had before he died, and yet ... what if?

Gray doesn't look convinced – if anything, he looks … agitated. He tugs at Thea's sleeve and stares up at her with his wide, creepy eyes and why do things always have to be so damned complicated?

"You don't have to go," Jason says quietly.

"They're … not just asking for me. They've apparently sent out the signal to you, for whenever you might check for it."

Jason whistles. "Must be a pretty big emergency."

Thea laughs hoarsely. "What's new? There's always going to be a big emergency that we all need to fight against. I just…" A shuddering breath. "It's never over."

"I know."

"I don't know what to do."

Neither does Jason. B's backup is severely diminished – something that isn't helped by his actions – and if the situation is bad enough, he could really go down this time. Last he heard, Cass left for Hong Kong again a few weeks after Dick's funeral. Barbara still maintains a good presence as Oracle and has become a bit of an independent force. Duke is officially out of town and Alfred doesn't fight.

Jason bites the inside of his cheek harder than he meant to and tastes the blood.

"You should go."

Gray's voice startles the both of them, and they look down at him. His downcast face is impassive but there's a resignation to it: in the droop of his shoulders, the look in his eyes when he returns their gazes. "Both of you. Grandfather needs you."

Thea hesitates. "Gray…"

"He's family."

They stare at him.

"I'll be fine," Gray insists. His voice is dead, and his eyes focus on the window.

"If we do leave," Jason says slowly, "We won't just leave you alone here. We won't do that, Gray."

"No!" Thea snaps suddenly before calming down. "What if the emergency affects the entire city? I don't want Gray in danger."

Thea's son pats her hand gently. "I can take care of myself, Mother."

"That's not the point–! It could be some new epidemic or poison in the water system or a city-wide operation."

"Your mom's right," Jason cuts in before Thea can hyperventilate thinking of all the possibilities. Not that it would keep her from coming up with more, but it might keep her anxiety levels from boiling over. "The entire city might not be safe for you."

"But you just said–"

"I never said we couldn't leave you here, just that we wouldn't leave you without some sort of assurance of your safety. I don't care how well-trained you are – even Damian had some of the most screwed-up-but-effective training and he's dead."

Gray inclines his head, eyes slightly blank. "Yes, I did hear about that. Such a shame; my half-sister actually shed a tear."

His half–?

Oh shit.

Jason … Jason just wants to laugh while Thea looks somewhat ill at the reminder. Oh, this screwed-up family…

"Gray," Thea says, softly, "Please, could you wait in the living room? I need to talk to Jason privately." At his hesitation, she adds, "I promise it'll only be a few minutes."

"TV remote's on the coffee table," Jason adds, not unkindly.

She waits a few seconds after Gray closes the bedroom door behind him before turning back to Jason. "I'm going to step down."

"Excuse me?"

"From Red Robin. I can't do it anymore, not if I'm going to raise Gray."

"But you–"

"I never wanted to be Robin," she whispers. "I never wanted any of it. I just wanted to help and that was how I could do it back then. Now, I'm raising Gray. It won't be forever," she admits after a short pause. "And if there's anything world-ending, I'll probably help out, but other than that … I'd rather do what Barbara did back then. Be like a sort of Oracle."

"Be my Oracle?" Jason teases gently, only realizing a moment after that it might not be appreciated.

But she smiles, a little hesitantly, a little nervously, but she does. "I'd have my own name, but – yeah, something like that."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Unless you don't–"

"No, I'm down for it. It's just … didn't you build up your rep as Red Robin already?"

"I can make a new one," Thea says simply. "I've started over before – I can do it again."

Jason catches himself staring at her and looks away. "It doesn't sound bad. Are you gonna break it to B?"

Thea pulls he knees up and wraps her arms around them. "I'll have to. It wouldn't be fair to anyone if I just ran away. He'd find me pretty easily that way, too. Honestly, I'm starting to think I should be more worried about Ra's. What will  _he_  do once he decides he wants Gray back?"

"I don't know." Jason settles a hand on her shoulder and meets her eyes when she turns. "But the next time I see that fucking bastard? I'm putting a bullet between his eyes and spreading his ashes so far apart even the damned Lazarus Pits won't be able to put him back together."

Thea laughs and Jason throws his arm around her again. His scent spreads over her in only the way an Alpha can attach his scent to new members of a Pack. She doesn't have her scent back yet but Jason knows the day it does, he'll have to brace himself for it. Has to be mindful and keep himself from scaring Thea away with the possessiveness every Alpha has for an Omega of his or her Pack.

Honestly, he doesn't want Thea going back to Bruce. He doesn't want Thea to admit she's an Omega to him, a truth that will be too obvious if she tells him about Gray. But these sorts of things are Thea's choices, and Jason thinks he knows who'll lose out if she had to choose between them.

So, when she says, "I honestly don't know if I can tell him" and "This'll be the last time Red Robin works for Batman" he smiles and agrees and knows the same truth every person who's taken the role of Robin knows.

They all love Bruce too damn much.

 

It's a bit early to suit up for patrol but the Red Hood sits in the apartment anyway, cleaning his gun.

They're going to drop by one of Thea's safehouses before leaving the city. Gray will stay there and have access to their comms in case of emergency, as well as several firearms he swears up and down he knows how to use. Normal people would hire a babysitter, but Jason doesn't believe in hiring complete strangers to look after your kids, and Thea's security systems would scare every sane person away. She's not ready for Gray to be found out, either, so asking a friend is out as well. And even if it wasn't, Thea told Jason what the kid did to her apartment while he was 'waiting' for her – Jason does not want to find out what the kid's willing to do to a person who happens to be around if he has some sort of temper tantrum.

He looks up to where Thea is putting new clothes in her duffel bag: she and Gray dropped by a thrift store or two to pick up some things for him because apparently the kid didn't think to bring or wear anything more on him than the clothes on his back. It's nothing Jason's never seen before, but it's a bit unnerving to think he'd just look for his mom at the drop of a hat. Not knowing her, just knowing she was alive and needing to see her. To meet her. To be with her and love her, no matter who she might be.

Jason's story didn't have a happy ending; he'll make sure this one does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, um... I'm very on-the-fence about a lot of what's written here, mostly concerning whether or not they'd leave Gray or bring him along. I'm also a little hesitant about the line about 'loving Bruce'; at this point, I have this small but slightly persistent belief that their shared experiences and griefs tie them intimately, if not always positively, together. It might not be a characterization that came through here, but I might try exploring that mindset in another AU someday...


	14. Jason - Be Right Back

Is this enough?

Jason watches Thea look out the apartment windows. There are shadows under her eyes, in the angles of her face. She's too thin, she's too light, and she barely speaks. Hell, she doesn't even look like she's paying attention to anything half the time. She looks out the windows, onto the streets far below with a deep thoughtfulness in her eyes that makes him nervous.

He's not stupid. He knows what people can do to themselves, so he hides the kitchen knives and locks it up tight with his weapons, banking on the assumption that if she's too out of it to talk, then she's too out of it to hack into his security systems. But he also knows she's creative enough to come up with something else if she really puts her mind to it and returning to the apartment in the early hours of the morning feels like some bizarre real-life Schrodinger's cat type of shit. Thea's somehow both dead and alive until he sneaks in and inevitably sees her waiting up on the couch.

Thea wakes up at night, thrashing and screaming. Crying. Jason hates it, but he hates it more when she wakes up and the terror leaves and he's left holding an empty shell as she stares up at him without seeing anything. He'd insisted on giving her the only bed in the apartment the first night and it's a good thing, too – if she ever tried doing this on the couch, she'd roll right off and hit herself on the coffee table or some shit.

He walks up to her, makes sure she can hear his steps before he gently presses a mug of hot tea into her hands. Thea looks down at it for a long moment, at his hands over hers wrapped around the steaming mug, not letting go until he's sure she won't drop it.

Thea doesn't say anything; sometimes she doesn't drink the tea and he'll take a full, cold mug after a handful of hours. He smiles at her and talks to her softly. Sometimes, he comes almost close to just feeding her himself, with how little she takes in.

It's like taking care of Catherine. Except he can do it better now; better food, better housing, better aid whenever she needs it. He doesn't quite know if she remembers or was aware of it, but she spent several days in the beginning of her stay, fighting off a vicious infection. He'd stayed with her, night and day, buying medicine and feeding them to her through broths, keeping watch over her in case she stopped breathing.

Jason weakly at Thea as he lets go of the mug. It's turning into a morning tradition, and he's not sure what it says about himself that he's settled so readily into looking after her.

He almost doesn't hear it: a breath of a whisper.

"Thank you."

 

 

"Take care of her."

Jason turns his head fast enough he thinks he might have induced whiplash. He blinks at Gray, who sits in a desk chair he was assuredly nowhere near two seconds ago. They're in Thea's safehouse – it's a small place, not really made for more than one person and definitely not for living in – and she's here somewhere, assembling her equipment and putting on new armor. The kid stares at Jason levelly, his entire demeanor mildly aggressive now that he isn't admiring his mom.

Jason cocks his head. "'Course I will." He hesitates before adding. "You focus on staying safe, you hear me?"

"I am capable of looking after myself."

"That's what everyone thinks until something gets them."

Gray's eyes narrow but doesn't deign to reply.

"I'm serious," Jason says with a little more weight in his voice. "It'll drive your mom crazy if something happens to you while she's gone. And Ra's… your old man's just crazy."

Gray exhales – not a real sigh, but close. "I'll be careful."

"All ready to go?"

They turn, and Red Robin stands at the doorway, her mask already on. Gray purses his lips and kids shouldn't be so serious, so Jason ruffles his hair as he passes him by. He bites back a chuckle when Gray bats his hand away and hops off the chair to go to his mom.

"Don't wait up, kid. We'll be back in a couple of days."

"We brought food from Jason's house," Thea says, her hand on Gray's shoulder, "And I left money for if something happens – or if we're gone longer than expected. I'll be checking in once in a while, so make sure you keep the lines open, okay? I'll tell you if we need to stay longer than expected."

"Yes, Mother."

She hugs him tight. "Goodbye, Gray. We'll be back soon."

Over Thea's shoulder, Gray stares at Jason, almost beseechingly.

Jason nods back at him.

 

 

"Not too late to back out now."

Jason sits in the passenger's side as Thea drives her beat up secondhand car. She glances at him; says, "We're almost at Gotham."

"Yeah – key word being  _almost_."

She shakes her head tiredly. "You're having doubts  _now_?"

He shrugs. "Aren't you?"

Thea purses her lips even as she stares resolutely out at the road.

"If what Bruce wants is too dangerous, I don't want you to participate."

"That's … really not your decision to make."

"It's not," Jason agrees easily. "But I don't have someone waiting for me to come back. Gray asked me to take care of you, you realize that? Kid's worried about you – and honestly, I am, too."

Her eyes soften at the mention of her son, and Jason can't help but wonder – what if Catherine or his mom loved him like that? What would life have been like?

He shakes those dangerous thoughts away.

"Bruce would get suspicious," she says quietly.

"I'll cover you."

Thea's grip on the steering wheel tightens ever-so-slightly. "What if he goes after you?"

"Oh, he'll definitely go after me – doesn't mean he'll find anything if I don't want him to." He grins at her, glad he's hasn't got his helmet on yet. "What do you say, Red? Gonna draw a line in the sand?"

She glances at him, amused. "Don't look so excited – Bruce might  _not_  ask us to do something more dangerous than usual."

Jason laughs.

 

 

He wants to fucking  _strangle_  Bruce.

"So, basically," Jason says slowly because he's not sure he heard it right, "You called us here just to tell us to get out again. Do you even know how long it took us to drive here?"

Okay, so that's not what Bruce actually said. What he said was something more along the lines of "Darkseid stole my son's corpse and while bringing you with me would greatly increase my chances of survival, I'm not going to let you because I want you to dedicate the rest of your assuredly short lifespans to protecting a city that should probably be condemned at this point."

Something like that.

"Bruce, no," Thea says, almost begging him to see sense. "We  _just_  got you back. You can't go to Apokolips alone! You need backup."

"She's right." Barbara folds her arms and looks right into B's white lenses. "If you want any sort of fighting chance, you'll need all the manpower you can get."

"I need the three of you protecting the city while I'm gone – and in the worst case, if I don't make it back"

"Okay, no – see, Batman, life's gone on for me, and I've said my goodbyes to this city," Jason growls. "I will  _not_ be trapped here because you decided to play the lone wolf when we all know it never works. There is a reason there's always been Batman  _and Robin_. You may not be a team player but you sure as hell need us anyway and I'll be damned if Thea gets dragged into staying here, too."

"Thea can make her own decisions," B answers, almost sharply.

"I can," Thea says. "And I don't agree with this."

"I know we've all got our issues," Jason continues, ignoring the suspicious glare he's now on the receiving end of, "But we are not letting you go in there alone. Even I know Gotham would go into chaos without you. I might not live here or want to live here anymore, but I can't let that happen. Bruce, for once in your life,  _let us help you_."

B fucking turns away from them. "Go. Batgirl, the city relies on you."

Thea's breath hitches. "Oh my god. Oh my god, you  _stubborn asshole_!"

"Mistress Alathea," Alfred exclaims sharply. Jason turns as well and lunges after her when she surges towards Bruce. As hot-blooded as his adopted dad makes him, trying to beat the Batman in a fit of anger is one of the highest items in the list of things even Jason knows not to do. The man is ridiculously good at fighting, no matter how old he gets. It's just not recommendable.

"Thea, calm down!" Jason holds her back, arms around her as he drags her backwards slightly.

"When will you learn you can't take it all on alone?" she screams. "Jason,  _get off me–_! Just let us go with you, damn it, you  _know_  we'll find a way to get there without your help, so just let us come with you! Do you really expect me to believe you gathered us here, tell us you were leaving Gotham in our hands, and expect us to be fine with that? You're not the only one Ra's fucking al Ghul calls The Detective, so don't you dare tell me you don't know exactly what we'd do in this sort of situation."

Jason's between them both now, holding onto Thea, and she hits him with her fists. Not really trying – not with the training they have – but there's enough energy for him to feel the force of it. He blocks her from Bruce and tries not to feel some sort of victory in it.

"She has a point, you know," Jason says quietly over his shoulder. Thea leans against him heavily, as if speaking had drained her in every way, gulping air like she's drowning. "Did you really expect us to quietly walk away from this?"

"I don't want any of your deaths on my hands," he starts but Jason rapidly cuts him off.

"Stop. B, just. Stop. That sentiment doesn't count unless you actually take steps to keep us from doing dangerous shit, not encouraging it. Vigilantism is dangerous, but you enabled all of us to do it anyway when we were barely in our teens, so that line? That line is bullshit."

"Apokolips is a deadly place," Bruce insists. "It's best if all of you stay here."

"But if we stay here," Barbara says icily, " _You_  will definitely die there and nothing will have been accomplished – in fact, I'm pretty sure you would've made things worse. Gotham isn't the only one that needs you. The Justice League needs you, too. The world needs a Batman, and you're the only one."

They would know.

"Were you manipulating us, Batman?" Babs asks, arms folded. "Again? Because Thea's right – you know us too well to actually expect us to stay away."

Batman regards all of them. There's a defensiveness to his posture that Jason can't help but see and he wonders what if. What if Bruce really did just want to say goodbye to all of them?

He mentally shakes his head. B's done too much shit for any of them to give him that sort of benefit of the doubt anymore.

"I will not take you to Apokolips," Batman growls. "Do what you must, but I will not bring you with me."

In the safety of his helmet, Jason rolls his eyes. They just have to do everything the hard way, don't they?

"Bruce," Thea says softly. "Don't do this."

" _Go_."

The pronouncement – short, harsh – makes Jason growl. "Fine. Whatever. Have it your way, jackass."

"Bruce, stop," Thea begs. "Why do you always feel like you have to be alone?"

"Save your breath," Jason snaps. "He's never going to listen. Come on, let's just go."

He can see it when she gives up; when a veil goes over her eyes and her posture straightens. She turns into Red Robin, and he needs to get her out of here. Jason remembers dead eyes, empty eyes, and the unnatural stillness as she stared up at him in the darkness. A shiver crawls down his spine as he grabs her by the wrist and nearly drags her into her car.

"Where're you driving?"

Jason slams the door. "The Theater."

"Not one of your warehouses?"

"I'm kinda sure you've got better accommodations than anything I've got." And maybe she'd feel safer there. The Theater's supposed to be her house, right? "Besides, we need to figure out what our next move's gonna be."

"We'll need to regroup with Barbara."

He turns in towards one of the backroads, towards the highway. "No. Thea,  _I_  need to regroup with Barbara."

"What are you talking about?"

Jason tightens his hand on the wheel, tries some of that breathing meditation shit he's heard so much about. "Bruce was right about one thing: Apokolips is a dangerous place. Even if we do manage to get in there … we might never come out. Look." He glances over at her, at her stubborn expression she probably got right from B. "You've got more to consider than Bruce and Damian: you need to think about what'll happen to Gray if you don't make it out. You said you couldn't just let him go back to Ra's but that's exactly what'll happen if you die."

"Jason, I can't just sit at the sidelines and watch all of you run into danger. I've never been that person, not even when my dad forced me to quit Robin."

Her dad did that? Well, good for him. "Gray needs you."

"Well, what if I–" Her voice cracks and she looks away for the longest time. "What if I can't do this alone? What if I need help?"

"I saw the way you acted around Gray," he says gently. "You'll do great."

"But not  _alone_." She breathes in deep, her chest shuddering. "I feel like I've lost – everything. And Gray needs more than I can give him. Please, Jason, I can't lose you, too. If I go, everyone's chances of surviving are much higher."

"Higher," Jason muses, "But not safe. C'mon, Red, don't make me into a liar; Gray will never forgive me."

"Don't make me choose between…" She exhales sharply. "Don't. Please. Don't do this."

God, he wishes no one had to. "You can't win everything all the time, Red. Sometimes, you need to choose. Sometimes, you only get one thing." He breathes in deep. Looks at her meaningfully and says, "Don't abandon your son."

Red Robin stares out at the open road. She's quiet for the longest time and he drives down familiar streets, through all the old shortcuts, taking note of new establishments and possible routes. It's when he's starting to think she's fallen asleep that Thea finally speaks.

"I'll help you and Barbara enter Apokolips, but – fine – I'll stay behind. But if you don't come back alive," she adds, fire in her eyes, " _I_  won't forgive you."

Jason nods. "Fair enough."

Thea won't look at him; is she crying behind her mask? She flexes her hands, and he wonders what all this means for them.

"So, I guess this makes us our own Pack," he says, because if he might die tonight, then he at least wants to know what's going on in his life.

"If – if you feel that way."

"I do… But I don't think Gray likes me very much."

Her strangled laughter sounds full of tears. "He'll come around."

"Don't be so sure about that." Jason never liked the men Catherine occasionally brought home or tried to have some sort of functioning relationship with. But then again, her taste in men hadn't exactly been … fatherly.

"I'm not," she admits. "So you better live long enough to find out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end...
> 
> The next chapter won't cover the events at Apokolips, mostly because I imagine things will go about the same way once the group gets there, except that they won't bring Titus with them. That's just ... no.


	15. Trust Fall

"We're gonna go to hell for this."

"Don't exaggerate, Red," Jason drawls through the helmet's voice modulator. "It's just a bit of deception, nothing new."

Thea glares at him. "Let me get this straight – your great plan to get into Apokolips is to trick one of the League members into coming into the Batcave, betray his trust, and use his technological implants to open a portal there?"

"No one and nothing else has the technology to do that," Barbara says firmly. "It's the only way we can get there at all."

Thea knows that but –  _really_?

"I am so glad I'm sitting this one out." She's got the worst feeling, like this is one of those times they're making things so much more complicated than they need to be.

"But you'll still help us?" Barbara asks, a bit hopefully.

Thea purses her lips. "Yeah, sure. I'll help you in there and wait for you to come back – Alfred and I will make sure nothing that tags along with you guys stays alive. Just let me know when you're ready, and I'll activate the holograms."

"We're ready  _now_."

She shakes her head. "If you're sure…"

 

 

"Mistress Alathea."

Thea jolts from her position in the chair. She turns to look at Alfred, watching her with that familiar concern in his eyes. He holds a mug of strong coffee in his hands that she gratefully accepts as she rubs her eyes a bit ruefully. "Thanks, Alfred. I guess I've gotten used to sleeping at night."

He sits down in front of her as she sips the coffee. The bitterness is familiar – not the strongest she's ever drank – but maybe no longer welcome; it's too much like the long nights, the hours on her own solving cases. It's too much like before.

"I take it Red Robin has been inactive for some time, then."

Thea traces the mug's rim with her thumb. "Just a few weeks, actually."

It feels like a lifetime ago.

"You and Master Jason grew closer there."

She lifts her gaze to meet his eyes, the only grandfather she's ever really known. "Does that worry you?"

Alfred regards her steadily. "Would it surprise you if it did?"

She laughs softly. "No. I actually expected someone to say something earlier than this."

She'd seen the question in Barbara's eyes the moment she and Jason rode into the Batcave together at the very first meeting. In Bruce, when she told him her plans to give up Red Robin – why should it though? It's not as if Red Robin ever meant anything good to her. Then again, it's not as if she ever told him that.

There's a lot of things she never told him. But she can. She can...

Should she?

"You have not had the best of histories," Alfred says carefully. "Yet you seemed on good terms tonight. Might I ask what has changed?"

"We  _are_  on good terms, Alfred." Thea hesitates. How much should she say? How much can she say? "Being away from Gotham … it let us take a step back from everything and … we get along." She shrugs. "Jason helped me out of a tight spot during a case, and we clicked."

She wants to tell Alfred how kind Jason is. She wants to tell him he makes Alfred's pancakes in the morning and whistles stupid little showtunes. She wants to tell him Jason saved her life every day after he rescued her on a rooftop when she should have died. When she was alright with dying.

(A part of her still is.)

Thea swallows and presses her lips together.

"Well, I for one am glad you two have made your peace with each other." There's warmth in Alfred's eyes that almost makes the words spill out of Thea but she's not sure of anything and all she can do is smile weakly at him.

"You're not – disappointed?"

"And why ever would I be?"

Thea makes a helpless gesture towards the equipment surrounding them, from the ceiling to the ground. "I'm leaving all this behind. I put in all that effort to help Bruce by being Robin and now I'll just be … tech support sometimes,  _if_  that."

"Mistress Alathea, I would never have wished this upon any of you. Perhaps I could not convince Master Bruce to do so, but it heartens me to know that perhaps one of you might be able to have a life away from this."

Her breathing hitches. "Alfred, I … I'm going to get my GED. Do the SAT – and I'll apply for college. I talked it over with Jason and he thinks it's a good idea. To get away from this and do something else."

"In this case, Master Jason is exactly right." There's something brighter in Alfred's countenance. "The two of you must visit more often. The Manor has become rather quiet – it would do Master Bruce good to see the two of you alive and well."

"And you?" she jokes.

"And I as well."

Thea almost agrees, almost gets carried away with the unexpected warmth, the tentative invitation to come back.

She remembers Gray.

Her smile wavers.

"Is something the matter?"

"Alfred, I…" Thea's heart skips a beat. Will she tell him? Won't she? If she tells Alfred, Alfred will inevitably tell Bruce, and oh God, what will Bruce do with that sort of news? "I don't think I can come over. I'm … sorry."

"Mistress Alathea … if it is because of Master Jason, I am sure if I speak to him–"

"No, no... It's not that, it's just – I can't. It's my fault, not Jason's."

She hates this. She hates their secrets and their lies and the way they tear their family apart. She's going to spend the rest of the time waiting for Jason and Barbara to come back with Bruce, lying her ass off because she can't gather up the fucking courage to just tell Alfred the truth.

Thea can lie to Batman – but can she be honest?

"I am sorry you feel that way," says Alfred, a bit distantly. "I am well aware that Master Bruce's behavior has not been … the most caring – and I admit that may be a failing on my part – but please, Mistress Alathea. He loves you. He wants nothing more than for all of you to be safe and within reach. You've made him so proud, Mistress Alathea, so proud and so worried. He has sorely missed your presence in the Manor ever since he returned, though he may not know how to say it."

God… Thea puts her coffee away, swipes at the small trail of tears starting to slip down her mask.

Ever-so-hesitantly, Alfred reaches out and lays his hand over hers. Unshed tears make his eyes shine bright as he looks straight into her. "Too much has gone unsaid in this family. It wouldn't do to let it go on in such a manner."

"Dammnit, Alfred," she whispers even as she laughs. "How's a girl supposed to keep a secret when you say things like that?"

"Not at all, I should hope."

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you…"

"Mistress Alathea, I have seen more than most can ever have imagined." He pauses. "How do the young ones say it now? Ah, yes – 'try me'."

Her smile is strained. "I wish things were that simple."

"Many things are, in hindsight."

"There's nothing simple about this."

"Perhaps. And perhaps it is not. But, Mistress Alathea…" Alfred looks her in the eyes with so much concern and so much care it wrings out an ugly, sobbing laugh out of her. "No matter what has been said or done, you will always be part of our family."

Thea curls over and covers her face. She's too tired to cry again, despite the tears that well up. She breathes in and out, deep breathes, and she can't even look at Alfred when she talks again.

A whisper. "I have a child."

"Pardon me?"

Louder. "I have a child." She looks at him then, and she sees the stricken look on his face. A twisted grin twitches on her lips as she says, "With Ra's al Ghul."

"Mistress Alathea, that's–"

"Impossible? Ra's grew him in a lab. He's about nine now, or so he says. My son – Gray, Ra's named him Gray – he tracked me down in New York." She smiles softly. "He gave me flowers."

A whole fuckton of them. And he wrecked her apartment, but that conversation can wait another time or never at all.

Hopefully never.

"But how did Ra's al Ghul manage to create a  _child_  between the two of you?" Alfred looks entirely disgusted and frankly, it's not unwarranted. It will never not be unwarranted. It's entirely disgusting. " _Why_?"

Thea swallows. "He wanted a super-kid or something like that, so he took my genetic material. Gray … rebelled and sought me out."

Steel glints in Alfred's eyes. "Master Bruce must hear about this. That … that…" He stops sharply and looks away. It's a long time before he can look at her again. "Mistress Alathea, where is the child now?"

"Gray? Jason and I left him at one of my safehouses in New York. The emergency in Gotham wasn't specified, so I didn't want to bring him here in case there was a city-wide attack."

"Well," he says briskly. " _Well_. It should go without saying that you should bring him here. It would be – good, to know your son."

"Your great-grandson, of sorts?"

"Yes, although there is nothing 'of sorts' about it."

Thea sits back in the chair and thinks. Wasn't this what she was afraid of? That Bruce and Alfred might convince her to stay with them because of Gray? Of course, Alfred is saying isn't asking for some commitment to a permanent residency, but it won't be too far away from Bruce suggesting – or demanding – that they just stay here.

She bites her lip.

"I guess … Bruce and I can–"

Bright, reddish light explodes in the middle of the Batcave. Alfred and Thea run toward it where everyone has fallen: Barbara, Jason, Cyborg, Bruce, and–

Damian.

Barbara is screaming. Batman's suit is about to fucking destroy him, and Thea runs, she runs to her dad and–

" _Don't make me choose_!" Bruce cries out. Everyone is shouting –  _Batman, take it off, B, stop!_  – when he thrusts a shard into Damian's rotting chest.

Streams of light dance and twist as energy crackles in the air. It's blinding, deafening, and they throw their hands up to protect their eyes. When it dies down, Thea cautiously puts her hands down and stares.

Damian is alive.

 

 

The powers  _probably_  aren't permanent.

Thea watches the first few tests Bruce conducts on his newly revived son before hitting the showers and changing into civilian clothes. It's not until she goes up to the Manor proper that she runs across Jason. More specifically, he's sitting in her bedroom out of costume.

He scrambles to stand up and it's – well, it's endearing. "Hey."

She nods. "Hey."

"Well," he says with an awkward gesture, "I didn't die – again."

"I can see that."

"So, are we waiting until the sun rises, or do you wanna head back to New York?"

Thea walks towards the window. She can see Damian's wrecked gravestone from here. "I told Alfred about Gray."

A long silence. Then: "Oh."

She turns around. "I didn't go into everything, but … you were right, when you said keeping him a secret wasn't a good idea."

She could have done it, though: she could have kept it a secret from them forever. But is that any way to live, hiding who you are from the people who care about you? Maybe … maybe Janet's promise wasn't meant to be for everyone. Maybe it wasn't supposed to be forever.

Thea smiles weakly at Jason. If only there was a manual that could tell her what she should do with her secrets. There isn't one, though, and she's made her choice; all she can do now is … ride out the consequences.

"So, does this mean you're gonna talk it through with Bruce?"

"I'll have to… But he's got too many things to think about now. I'm surprised the signal hasn't been lit yet tonight." She chews her lip. "I wanted to tell him when he got back, once everything calmed down a bit. But Damian's back, and - and I don't think it's the right time anymore."

"Alfred will tell him if you won't."

"I know, but..." Thea closes her eyes for a long moment before she looks at Jason. "I just want to go back to Gray. Bruce needs to look after Damian, and I get that. He has powers we don't understand right now, but I can't just wait here for his life to calm down. When he finds out, he can call or message me."

"No offense, Thea, but it sounds a bit to me like you're running away." He moves closer to her until he stands beside her in front of the window. She can smell him, his concern, and she's tired. She's tired of everything.

"Bruce needs to look after Damian. He doesn't need this weight on his shoulders, too." Softer, she says, "I didn't expect you to get Damian back alive. It's not that I'm ungrateful, but it's ... it makes things different. I don't want Bruce to worry about me when he should be looking after Damian."

Jason nods slowly. He doesn't look entirely convinced, but she hasn't needed anyone to believe her for a while. "Yeah. Guess I'm not the only Robin to come back anymore." He glances at her cautiously. "So, I guess we're leaving right away?"

Thea nods. She wraps her arms around herself and knows this is wrong. But she doesn't know how to face Bruce, and … she's not strong. She's not – not now. Yet when she looks at Jason, all she sees is some sort of sad understanding as he wraps his arm around her.

Sometimes, it's okay … to not be okay.

"At least … you can tell Gray you've kept your promise."

" _Please_." Jason laughs. "I'm pretty sure that's an ongoing deal. He'd probably blame me if something happened to you ten years from now even if I was halfway across the country."

"Or on another planet?"

"Fuck, yeah. Kid would probably point a finger at me even if I was stuck in another universe."

Thea smiles. "I'll drive us back. Meet you at the garage in fifteen?"

"I'll see you there."

 

 

Thea finds Damian in front of Nightwing's enshrined costume, knees up to his chest, face buried in his arms. His entire body shakes.

She hesitates, for just a moment, before sitting down next to him. "Hey."

"What do you want, Drake?"

She looks at the familiar black-and-blue costume. "I miss him, too," she says, softly. "He was the best, wasn't he? The best brother?"

Somehow, Damian still manages to tut over that. "Of course he was. Must it even be said out loud?"

"The Manor is always colder without him," Thea continues, ignoring the bitter words. She takes a card out of her pocket and slides it towards him. "This is my WE card. It's a little outdated, but the two numbers at the bottom are still in use. If you ever need someone to talk to, or somewhere to go… you can contact me, okay?"

Damian muffles a sniffle.

She stands up. "Jason's waiting for me. We're heading back to New York." She pauses, smiles sadly at the little boy grieving. She doesn't dare give him a comforting touch, can only hope her words can be enough. "Goodbye, Damian. It's good to have you back."

"Thea."

She turns around at the sound of Bruce's voice. He's out of costume and there's something about him, like he's … uncertain.

"Yes, Bruce?"

"We need to talk."

"Jason's waiting for me."

"He can wait a little longer."

Thea huffs a little but gives up. What can he want to talk about that will take too long, anyway? She follows him up a level of the Batcave and watches him lean on the railing overlooking the main floor.

"Alfred told me about … your child."

Thea blinks. He did? Already? "Oh."

Bruce's voice is strangled. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I…"

"Thea, I am your father. These are things I should – God, that I should know about." He looks at her then, and there's so much pain in his voice when he asks, "Why were you afraid to tell me?"

"I only found out about him yesterday."

Bruce blinks, nods. "And ... the father?"

Thea takes in a deep breath. She looks out beyond the railing at the Cave, at the lower floor… Anything but Bruce. "Ra's kidnapped me." She doesn't look at Bruce, can't know how he's reacting besides his scent: aggression, laced with … fear?

"He raped me."

Surprise – and then anger. So much outrage, in his scent alone.

"Why?" His voice is raw when he finally speaks. "He wouldn't have had to do that, unless–"

"I'm an Omega," she finishes. And she does look at him then, looks him straight in the eye, and repeats, "I'm an Omega." She throws him a bitter smile before shifting her gaze again. "He found out while I was looking for you. I lost my spleen – did you know that? – and he found out when they needed to operate on me."

"Thea, no … the forms – your scent…"

"My mom lied when they wrote up my birth records – and I lied, too, in the adoption papers. That's what she taught me. It's … how she protected me."

"But your scent is–"

"Gone? Non-existent?" Her mouth curls into an ugly grimace. "I wasn't eating right when I moved out. And then I found out that your body stops producing scents when you've got little enough weight. It was a good solution to a tricky problem."

Bruce is silent.

She's telling him this, telling him the truth. There will be consequences, but fuck that. Fuck all of that. She's tired, and they're already having this conversation, and she doesn't want him hearing it from anyone else.

 _Too much has gone unsaid in this family_.

"Jason saved me. I would've died if he hadn't decided to take me in." She lifts her eyes to meet his. "I'm leaving Red Robin behind. I can't do it anymore, especially not if I'm going to raise Gray. I'll help Jason out as support sometimes – I'll need to make a new name, but that's alright – but I'm going to get my GED. I want to go to college."

Bruce nods slowly. "I won't stop you, but … won't you stay here?"

Thea bites her lip. "Bruce," she says quietly, "You're destructive. I know you don't mean to hurt us, but you do and you do it in some of the worst ways. I can't let Gray grow up around that."

"Thea–"

"No, Bruce, please. Jason told me about what you did in Ethiopia. I can't let that happen around Gray. I'm sorry, but … you don't handle grief well, or your rage. It spills over to us, and I'm just … I can't."

Bruce is devastated. The truth hurts, but it feels almost cathartic. She told him, and the world didn't end. She told him, and he didn't turn into a growling Alpha from her nightmares, about to lock her in her room.

"I'm sorry," he says.

She turns away from him and starts walking. "Jason's waiting for me in the garage."

Bruce follows behind her and she tries to relax. Everything's gone civilly so far, and it feels … open, like anything can happen. Bruce might need a while to fully process everything, but there is no aggression or any particularly strong sign of possessiveness.

"Will you visit?" he asks.

"I don't know."

Thea focuses on walking. They don't come across anyone on the way and it isn't long before they reach the garage. Jason leans against her car's driver's side, already waiting. He doesn't visibly tense when he notices Bruce, but she can smell the apprehension. She throws him an apologetic expression before saying, "Hey, Jason. Did you wait long?"

"Nope."

"Jason," Bruce says by way of greeting.

He tilts his head to the side, dips his head down once. "Bruce."

"I told him," Thea says quietly when she passes by him on her way around to the driver's side.

Jason nods again.

"Thank you." Bruce approaches Jason awkwardly, standing in front of his prodigal son. "For taking care of – your sister."

"No problem, B."

Bruce clears his throat. The silence is awkward, but no one knows what to say, really.

"Well, I guess we'll be going now," Thea says when no one else seems ready to speak. "Goodbye, Bruce."

"Goodbye, Thea. Jason … thank you, for going after me."

"Sure," Jason mutters, waving him off as he gets into the passenger's side. "Just take care of the brat. Pretty sure I saw 'im crying in front of Dickiebird's suit earlier."

Thea smiles faintly even if Jason does slam her car's door a little too hard. "Goodbye, Bruce."

He walks back to her and – and hugs her tight. "Goodbye, Thea. Call me when – whenever."

Thea blinks, her breath hitching, before she hesitantly wraps her arms around him. He's warm, like always, and smells like himself. She revels in it, in the familiar sense of security, for a second before pulling away. "I will. Goodbye."

They drive out of the Cave and head for the main highway. Jason and Thea are tired, but she has just a little more to say.

Thea lightly touches the special communications device that connects to her safehouse. "Gray."

A small crackle in her ear. "Yes, Mother?"

"Jason and I are heading back now. I'll see you soon." She hesitates. Takes in a deep breath. "I love you."

A short pause.

"I love you, too."

When he doesn't seem inclined to say anything more, she closes the frequency and smiles.

"That's one lucky kid you've got," Jason mumbles with his eyes still closed.

Thea raises an eyebrow amusedly. "I'm glad you think so."

"Wake me up in an hour and I'll take over the wheel."

"Sure."

Thea drives through the streets in the early morning and takes a deep breath in. It's almost dawn. Once they're far enough away from the Gotham air pollution, it's a beautiful sight.

It's a beautiful day.

 

 

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who's left a kudos, bookmarked, and/or commented! I would not have gotten this far with you guys. I'm definitely not done with this AU, but it might be a while before I return to it.
> 
> Goodbye for now!

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on ff.net.
> 
> Thank you for reading this fic! I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
